Death of a Hero, page 2
He signed in to the free weights room and pumped iron beyond his previous limits for the next 30 minutes until he heard the music stop. He towelled off his sweat, returning to the hall just as Bindi emerged. He judged by her happy smile that she hadn’t heard about Seru yet. Bindi Chopra was a first-year business student like Horseman. Originally she’d enrolled in Fiji School of Medicine and had studied there with Seru and Loa, his girlfriend, for four years.
‘Joe, what a surprise! Shouldn’t you be at rugby training? You’ll be in Seru’s bad books!’ She wagged her finger at him, grinning. She must have registered his expression and her smile vanished. ‘What’s the matter?’
He didn’t know what to say. ‘Training’s cancelled. It’s about Seru. I arrived to set up but he’d got there first. I found him, Bindi. In the shed.’
‘Spit it out, Joe. What do you mean?’
‘He seemed to be asleep, but I couldn’t wake him, so I thought he could be unconscious. I ran for Dr Koroi, but she couldn’t help him. She said he was dead. I was too late.’
Her lips parted and she stared at him for a few moments. Then she reached up and grabbed his upper arms, shaking them ever so gently. ‘Whatever’s happened, it’s not your fault, Joe. How could it be?’
‘But if I’d arrived earlier, maybe he’d still be alive.’ A sob caught in his throat, but he managed to swallow it back.
‘Whenever he died, it’s not your fault,’ she repeated. ‘Did Dr Koroi tell you anything else?’
Horseman took a couple of deep breaths, hoping they might still the quaver in his voice. ‘No. The police and the ambulance arrived. She stayed in the shed with them for a while.’
She released his arms. ‘Have you had anything to eat yet, Joe?’
Horseman shook his head, surprised at the very idea of food.
‘Well, you need to. You’ve had a shock—a bereavement, too. I know you hero-worshipped Seru. And I always crave food after exercise. How about we go across the road to Hare Krishna?’
She patted his arm. He wanted more of her comforting, but he couldn’t afford even the modest Hare Krishna prices until his next scholarship payment at the end of the month.
‘Vinaka, Bindi. I should be working on our accounting assignment, so I’d better go to the student canteen and then to the library.’
‘Don’t be too proud to accept a cheap meal from a friend, Joe! You won’t get any worthwhile work done in the library after what’s happened. We both need something a bit better than the student canteen tonight. I’ll be deeply offended if you knock me back!’
So he let her lead him out the front gates and across Laucala Bay Road to the little group of shops that made a living from the university students and staff.
The USP branch of the popular Hare Krishna curry shop was itself organised like a canteen. It was peak hour, and when Horseman and Bindi emerged from the production line, their battered trays crowded with stainless steel bowls of curries, dhal and sambals, there was not a table to be found. Bindi unleashed a torrent of pleading in rapid Hindi on the cashier. The cashier looked sympathetic and ushered them to a tiny table just behind the kitchen door.
The warm spicy smell and the cool air-conditioning urged him to wolf the food, but he managed to mind his manners in front of Bindi, this sophisticated woman five years his senior, who treated him as her friend.
After ten minutes, the creamy paneer and thick dhal suffused his system. Horseman felt calm. Calm enough to think, anyway. ‘Vinaka, Bindi. I’m grateful. Look, you studied medicine for four years. How could a fit sportsman like Seru just die suddenly?’
‘My opinion isn’t worth much, Joe. I failed my last year of med. But, for what it’s worth, it could be a congenital heart condition, an acute infection, an embolism—that’s a blood clot—, lots of things, really.’
‘So it’s not unusual?’
‘Yes, it’s unusual, but it does happen now and then. Dr Young, the hospital pathologist, has an excellent reputation. He’ll find out why Seru died. But I know how you’re feeling, Joe. It doesn’t seem possible that Seru’s dead.’
‘What about Loa? I bet she doesn’t know yet. I should go up to FSM campus and tell her. She’ll be broken-hearted. You’re her best friend, come with me.’
Bindi smiled in just the same way as his big sisters often did—indulgently. ‘You’re a sweet kid, Joe. And you’re right, Loa must know.’ She frowned. ‘But didn’t Professor Hau’ofa turn up at training this afternoon?’
‘Sure, he talked to Dr Koroi and the detectives. Then he put off training until tomorrow.’
‘Well, then, Prof will tell Loa as soon as he gets home. She moved into the staff flat behind his FSM house a while back.’
Horseman felt a bit foolish. Like the Prof, Loa was Tongan, so it was natural he would look out for her. ‘No, I didn’t know that. We could still go and keep her company, talk. It might help. Don’t you think? She shouldn’t be alone tonight.’
‘She’ll be in a heap, Joe. She’s adored Seru since we both met him four years ago. It would be better if you waited until tomorrow before visiting. Let Loa cry her eyes out tonight. I can’t go up to Tamavua now, but I’ll ring her flat later and make sure she’s okay. And the Prof will be there. How are you getting on with the accounting assignment, by the way?’
‘I haven’t actually made a start. Thought about it though.’
Bindi gasped in mock horror. ‘Thinking doesn’t count, Joe! Go to the library and find the references now. Borrow the books or photocopy what you need. You can count that as a start.’
‘But you said I wouldn’t get anything done tonight! You actually dragged me across the road to come and eat with you.’
‘That was before I knew you hadn’t even started on it. Go on. You’ll feel better knowing you’ve got the essential references.’ Bindi smiled, encouraging him.
Horseman felt deflated. It seemed no one needed his help or company. But Bindi knew what to do, so he’d follow her advice and visit Loa tomorrow. He headed for the library, doubtful he’d make much progress with his assignment tonight.
TUESDAY
5
The bus driver ground the gears as he changed down for the steep climb up Edinburgh Road. Horseman wondered if the old bus would make it. He glanced at the front pages of both papers he’d bought at the bus stop. No mention of Seru’s death. He opened the Fiji Times and scanned each page until he came to the short article on page four.
Sudden death of USP 1st grade Captain
Seru Namata, aged 24, star of USP rugby, collapsed in the changing shed before training yesterday. He was pronounced dead by attending doctors, among them USP’s celebrity coach, Professor Lakepi Hau’ofa, who stated: ‘Seru was an outstanding player and captain who had a stellar future ahead of him in international rugby. He was also an excellent medical student who looked forward to a career serving his fellow Fijians. His death has shocked all of us who knew him and left the team in deep grief. However, USP teams will try even harder to win without him, as he would want.’
Son of Mareka and Vilisite of Kila village, Central district, Seru attended Kila primary school and Queen Victoria School. The cause of Seru’s death is being investigated by the police.
So, nothing new yet. Horseman turned to The Sun and found the report on page two under Shock Rugby Death: Police Investigate. But beneath the sensational headline there was no extra information.
He winced at the acrid smell of unburnt diesel and looked out the glassless window. The old bus had made it up to Samabula junction and was puffing at the traffic lights. When Horseman had first encountered the junction, he’d thought a fire must be raging close by, so strong was the burnt-rubber exhaust smell. Now he held his breath until the bus was through the junction, ascending even higher to the more salubrious suburbs and embassies along the ridge of Princes Road. Although the white-washed walls spilling bougainvillea and alamanda were attractive, the view beyond, the emerald ranges dropping to scalloped turquoise bays and glittering sea, brought tears to his eyes. The view reminded Horseman of his home island, Ovalau. Seru would never see this loveliness again. Perhaps heaven was more beautiful, but Horseman couldn’t imagine how.
He was snatched from his reverie when the driver turned up the radio for the 12 o’clock news. The first items covered President Clinton’s free trade deal with Canada and Mexico and the worsening drought in the western islands. Next came the news he’d been waiting for.
‘More on the tragic death of promising rugby player Seru Namata, captain of USP first grade. Police are speaking to family and friends who may shed light on the cause of his death, which remains unknown.’
The newsreader made it sound like the police had suspicions about Seru’s death. Could this possibly be true? He wondered if Seru’s family and Loa knew about it. As the labouring bus was now only five minutes away from the FSM campus on Tamavua Heights, he reflected that Loa might already know more about Seru’s death than he did.
6
‘Follow this driveway, turn left, and Prof Hau’ofa’s house is at the end of the street,’ a student told Horseman.
The directions proved correct. He hurried to the detached flat at the back and called out from the porch. ‘Are you there, Loa? It’s me, Joe Horseman.’ He waited but there was no answer, so he walked around to check for a back door. The word ‘flat’ was a misnomer. Each of the large houses for academic staff had a small, detached building behind or beside it. They were intended to house both a laundry and the domestic staff who used it. Horseman had been surprised to find that some USP lecturers rented out their staff flats to students, or employed students to clean their houses. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he felt uncomfortable about this practice.
He looked across the garden to Coach’s house. There was Loa, hanging washing on the line strung underneath the elevated house. He waited till she’d emptied her basket and turned back to her flat, then approached. Her wavy black hair hung loose around her drooping shoulders. She dragged her heels as if they were lead. She didn’t seem to hear his first greeting.
‘Bula, Loa. How are you?’ Stupid question, he only had to look at her to see how she was. But he’d always been awkward around Seru’s beautiful Tongan girlfriend. Around any girl really.
Taken aback, she recoiled before recognising him and relaxing. ‘Bula, Joe, how good of you to come to see me.’ She lowered her eyes but gave him a small smile and her hand, which lay listless in his own for a second or two. She looked up at him. Her red-rimmed eyes held his gaze. ‘As you can see, Joe, I’m a bit of a mess.’
‘Can…can I make you a cup of tea?’ His banality disgusted him.
A tiny hint of amusement played at the corners of her mouth. ‘That’s so thoughtful, Joe. Io, a cup of tea would be nice, but I’ll make it. Come in.’
The flat, unlike Coach’s elevated house, was built on a concrete slab. Loa kicked off her flipflops on the little porch and Horseman removed his trainers, leaving them neatly beside a flourishing pot of basil. The words he wanted to say to Loa fled his mind.
The combined living room and kitchen was attractive, with floral curtains at the windows and bright-fringed pandanus mats on the floor. A battered cane sofa and coffee table faced a small television perched on an old-fashioned tea trolley. The small dining table overflowed with books, folders, loose photocopies and general student clutter.
‘I’ll get tea, Loa. You sit down and have a rest.’
‘No, you don’t know where anything is, let me.’
It was Horseman’s turn to be amused. ‘Let’s not argue, I’m here to help. It’s not exactly a big kitchen, is it? I’ve already spotted your teapot on the shelf above the sink.’
Loa shrugged and sank onto the sofa, which sagged beneath her. ‘Okay. Everything you need is on the bench or the shelf above. No need to dive into my messy cupboards.’
Horseman raised his hand. ‘I promise!’ He caught his lighthearted tone and kicked himself for joking in the face of tragedy. But Loa gave him a weak smile in the same big-sisterly way that Bindi always did.
When he brought her tea, Horseman steeled himself to speak of Seru. ‘I want to tell you what a wonderful guy Seru was to me—still is. He’ll always be my hero. I was totally lost here when I arrived in February. My first time in a city, first time studying on my own. I only knew life on Ovalau and in a boys’ boarding school. I felt like I didn’t belong in a university, like a complete fraud.’
Loa nodded, her face serious. ‘I did too, Joe. I think that’s how most new students feel inside, but like you, I thought I was the only one. Imagine coming to Suva from tiny Tonga! At least you were in your own country.’
‘Io, that’s what my mum told me. And she always said to make each day better than the one before. Only I could do that, she would say. I loved rugby at school, so I screwed up my courage to turn up for the trials here. I hoped against hope that I might make the third grade team. I fumbled the ball a couple of times so I was sure I’d miss out.
‘I couldn’t believe it when Coach called my name out—just twelve of us to fill vacancies across all the grades. Seru congratulated me and shook my hand. “Now you’re one of us, Joe, but you’ll work hard for the privilege,” he said. I assumed I’d made third grade, or even a reserve. After he told me I’d be joining him in first grade, I was speechless. He had a big grin on his face. “I warn you, I’m a slave driver and you’re my youngest slave!”
‘ “Wow, I’ll do anything, sir,” I told him.
‘Seru burst out laughing. “You may be my slave, but no need for sir. Call me Seru!” I knew then I belonged.’
Loa smiled again, tears welling.
‘Seru spent a lot of time getting me up to scratch for the start of the season. Coach, too. Technique, tactics, fitness, teamwork. I owe them both a huge debt, but especially Seru. He was my captain, trainer and team mate, all in one.
Loa’s tears overflowed now. ‘And a slave driver?’
‘I was a happy slave. He was brilliant. I can only dream of playing like him one day.’
‘He told me you’d be a better player than him if you worked hard enough. I’m not sure if he was pleased about the prospect, but that’s what he said.’
Horseman was astounded. Seru had only ever pointed out his deficiencies to him, which was what Horseman expected. He felt his own tears welling now. He shook his head in disbelief and to cover his awkwardness, asked, ‘Can I pour you more tea, Loa?’
‘Yes, Joe, the tea has done me good. You have, too.’
When he returned with her tea, Loa was standing, tears now rolling down her face, her shoulders trembling. He put the mug down on the coffee table. She seized his arms, leaned her head against his chest and sobbed. As he lifted his arms to her shoulders, she pulled him close, holding on tight round his waist, binding herself to him. Tentatively, he patted her back, but it was only a moment before a sharp rap on the open door disturbed their shared grief.
‘Detective Sergeant Ratini, Miss Tupou. Say goodbye to your visitor, if you please. I want to talk to you.’ Ratini smirked as he suddenly recognised Horseman, who was dismayed by the conclusion the hostile cop would draw. He had to admit it was how he would interpret the scene himself.
‘Aha, young Horseman eh? Just wanting to help the bereaved again, are you? It’s time you left.’
Horseman pulled back but Loa hung on to him. ‘I’ll talk to you, detective, but only if my friend can stay as a witness to protect me. I’ve heard police officers are not always to be trusted.’ She looked up at Horseman, whose heart was battering his ribs in embarrassment as much as anger or fear. ‘Please don’t go, Joe.’
‘As you wish, Miss Tupou. Sit down, please, both of you,’ Ratini’s tone was again sarcastic.
Loa straightened, flashed a haughty look at Ratini, then seated herself on the sofa with admirable aplomb. Horseman sat beside her and Ratini perched on a dining chair he drew up to face them.
‘Constable, I need you to take notes,’ he yelled. One of the officers Horseman remembered from the previous day entered, pulled up another dining chair for himself and produced a notebook and pen from his pocket.
‘Cosy little housegirl’s flat you’ve got, Miss Tupou. Better than the student dormitory eh? How much rent do you pay Professor Hau’ofa for this?’
Horseman had to butt in. ‘I must protest, Sergeant. How is this relevant to your investigation into Seru’s death?’
‘I decide what’s relevant, Mr Horseman.’ Ratini sounded amused yet insistent. Horseman decided he shouldn’t rise to his bait any more.
Loa calmed herself and answered. ‘I live here rent free in return for helping Mrs Hau’ofa with housework and the children. It suits us both.’
‘How much time did the deceased spend here, eh?’
‘Seru visited often, Sergeant. We used to study together. He also visited the Prof a lot to discuss rugby.’
‘Ah yes, rugby. Quite the star, your boyfriend, eh?’
‘Yes, Seru had a huge talent and he trained very hard.’
‘And I guess your professor helped him get to that extra level, eh?’
Loa looked a bit puzzled. Horseman couldn’t see where this was going either. ‘I suppose so. He’s a really good coach,’ she said after a moment’s pause.
‘What drugs was the deceased using, Miss Tupou?’
‘Drugs? What do you mean?’
‘You’re a medical student, you must be familiar with the word and its meaning, eh? I mean any kind of drugs in the form of pills, powders or liquids that he may have inhaled, injected or swallowed. Clear enough?’
