Horseman agreed with Seru’s argument, while understanding that Loa felt betrayed.

  ‘How could he choose the Prof over me? After we’d loved each other for years? How could he make love to me, knowing that old man was doing the same? Well, I guess he couldn’t, because since then he lost his passion. He excused himself with pressures of study, the team, sore joints – anything! But I think it was some kind of twisted respect for his beloved coach. Like I said, Prof is completely responsible for what happened.’

  She had worked herself up to a temper now. Is this what love entailed? Horseman hoped not. Now he was starting to understand why, he needed to know how.

  ‘Loa, how did you manage it with Seru?’

  ‘I never stooped to stealing drugs or deceiving a doctor or pharmacist. I would quite rightly be expelled for such unethical actions. I simply consistently took less insulin than I should have and saved it up. That’s another reason I haven’t been so well the last few months. I was so upset last Sunday night when Seru told me again he couldn’t pressure the Prof to give me up—what he meant was that he wouldn’t! He spent the night here. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t take it any more, so I injected the insulin into his buttock as he slept.’

  ‘Didn’t he wake up?’

  ‘No, he stirred then settled again. The needles are very fine, you hardly feel them. Seru’s a heavy sleeper and he was in awful pain from a shoulder injury so he took codeine as well as ibuprofen…’

  ‘I did some reading last night—it seems many adults survive an overdose of insulin. The effect on an individual is quite unpredictable. Why did you choose insulin anyway?’

  Loa frowned. ‘Why were you reading up on insulin, Joe?’

  Damn, he shouldn’t be giving her information, but he couldn’t come up with any other explanation than the truth. ‘Oh, Dr Young’s latest results show insulin in Seru’s samples.’

  ‘Really? My textbook claims that insulin is undetectable in blood after quite a short time.’

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t blood. I don’t know any more about it Loa.’

  ‘Joe, I never meant for Seru to die! How could you think that? I was so hurt that I just wanted him to suffer—maybe miss a game. I see now I was being spiteful, wanting to punish him for not loving me enough. I must have been mad.’

  Horseman’s heart raced as he stared at her, horrified. Some colour had revitalised her lovely face. She sat erect, reached up and pulled off the hair clasp, letting the black waves cascade down her back and over her breasts.

  He was dead scared of gaining further insights into Loa’s actions. An inner voice urged him to call the police, but in the end, he ignored it. What evidence was there? She could easily deny what she’d just told him. However, he needed to decide what to do if evidence did come his way. His indecision disturbed him.

  21

  ‘You’re a good person, Joe. I trust you and I know you’d never betray my trust. And there’s not a scrap of evidence that what I told you is true. Is there?’

  ‘Are you starting to feel better? I’ll pour you another cup of tea.’ Loa’s smile was weak but she nodded.

  She was stretched out on the sofa once more, her head resting on the cushion when he returned from the kitchen. Her eyes were shut. Alarmed, he dropped the cup. Thank God, Loa was clear of the scalding liquid that poured down his cargo pants and the dozens of ceramic shards that bounced off the tiled floor. She sat up, her eyes wide open. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Loa, it’s just a broken cup and spilt tea. My fault, I’m sorry. You stay where you are. Where can I find a mop or floorcloth?’

  ‘Oh, there’s a broom cupboard in the bathroom. Thank you, Joe.’ Her sleepy voice trailed off as she leaned back on her cushion again.

  He rushed to the bathroom, grabbed a wash cloth from a hook beside the sink, sponged the tea from his clothes and leg with cold water. He’d have some blisters but he’d survive. As he glanced in the mirror, he noticed a bright yellow box on the shelf with the familiar adhesive sticker: Sharps. His mother issued a box just like this to every insulin-dependent diabetic patient. He lifted it and jiggled it. It was pretty full. The syringe that injected Seru with insulin four days ago could well be inside. If it was, maybe it would be possible for Dr Young to identify it. That would be evidence, wouldn’t it?

  He got a bucket, mop, dustpan and handbrush from the neat broom cupboard and returned to the mess by the sofa. While Loa seemed to doze, he cleaned it all up and dumped everything on the front verandah. He’d rinse and wring the mop out later.

  Horseman sat in the chair opposite Loa. How could he hand this beautiful killer to the police? And why did he think of her as a killer anyway? After all, he was no expert; he didn’t really know what happened. He didn’t know whether the insulin had killed Seru, or was only partly responsible as one of several drugs in his system. Perhaps the insulin had nothing to do with Seru’s death. He had no responsibility to the police, who’d constantly told him to mind his own business and leave the investigation to them. Well, he should follow their advice.

  But another argument was nagging him. The only reason he was here now was because he’d vowed to clear Seru’s name, and later his own, by finding out the truth about how Seru died. Now he’d found the truth, or at least a key to it, neither he nor Seru would be exonerated unless the police knew about it too. Justice could prevail only if it was blind.

  He noticed Loa’s face had paled even more, and bluish smudges darkened the delicate skin around her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t asleep, maybe she was unconscious. Panicking, he jumped up and shook her shoulder. She opened her exhausted eyes. ‘What, why are you here?’ She looked around as if confused by her surroundings. Suddenly he understood.

  ‘Loa, why are you still not taking enough insulin? I’ve been with you for a couple of hours; you’ve had food, drink and a rest, but you haven’t recovered. You must still be going short on insulin.’

  ‘What? Are you a doctor now?’

  ‘Loa, you know far more than I do. But I do know a bit because my grandfather had diabetes, my mother’s a district nurse and she taught me how to look after him.’

  She smiled and sank back on the cushion.

  ‘Tell me Loa, why aren’t you taking your insulin?’

  He could see her struggling to concentrate. ‘What? Oh, I see. I’m saving it up, I told you.’

  ‘What for, Loa?’

  ‘For Seru’s killer. It won’t be a problem. He’s a very heavy sleeper.’

  She laid her head down again. The next moment they heard pounding on the door, and Professor Hau’ofa burst in, looking round wildly.

  ‘Joe, Joe, what are you doing here? I told you to butt out and I meant it! Get out at once! You have no place here! You are not wanted!’ He flung out his arm, pointing at the open door and the darkness beyond.

  Coach’s fury evaporated as his gaze embraced Loa. The sight of her smoothed his features and relaxed his tense body. He went to her, supported her head with one huge hand, taking her pulse with the other, speaking to her all the while in Tongan. Although Horseman didn’t know Tongan at all, he could understand what Coach’s words expressed. They were gentle yet passionate, comforting yet anxious. Loa was right: Coach was in love with her.

  While Coach continued to implore Loa, Horseman retreated to the kitchen bench and the telephone. No, he couldn’t call the police, not yet. Then it came to him—Dr Young! He would know what to do. If the doctor chose to call for the police, so be it. He lifted the handset and dialled the number as quietly as he could. Damn! A recorded message at the lab gave an emergency number.

  ‘Dr Matthew Young.’ Thank goodness.

  ‘Doctor, it’s Joe Horseman. Loa injected Seru with insulin. She’s here, in her flat at Professor Hau’ofa’s house at FSM. She’s ill, Professor Hau’ofa has just arrived. Please come now!’

  ‘Right, mate. You stay safe, I’m calling the police, then I’ll be with you.’

  He didn’t need to put the phone down quietly. Loa raised her voice, shouting in rapid Tongan, ignoring the coach’s soothing entreaties. Horseman took a few steps towards the sofa, unsure whether to intervene. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, so how could he help? Loa had revived, at least for now. She struggled against Coach’s firm grip on her arms. He was calm, using just enough force to restrain her, but no more. That’s how it looked to Horseman. He couldn’t do Loa any good by tackling the coach and he could easily inflame the conflict.

  Thank goodness, Loa soon calmed down and Coach released her. She eased her legs off the sofa and the older man sat beside her stroking her shoulder, still speaking softly. They ignored Horseman, or were oblivious to him. He prayed that Dr Young would get here soon—this situation was way out of his league and much too much responsibility. Bindi called him kid affectionately, but that’s all he was.

  Loa reached for her pandanus basket which Horseman had dumped beside the sofa when he’d helped her into the flat. She dragged it in front of her and fumbled inside with both hands, feeling for something.

  The ziplock insulin injecting pack? Why hadn’t he twigged when Loa said she was saving insulin for Seru’s killer? Horseman edged forward to the back of the sofa in time to glimpse the syringe protruding from her curled hand as she withdrew it slowly from the bag. He reached over to grip her wrist. Too late, her hand darted behind her back. Professor Hau’ofa sprang up and shouted one word—‘Loa’. He tried to wrestle the syringe from her hand but Loa was lightning quick. She passed the syringe to her left hand and lunged at the professor, who dodged her weapon. She screamed with rage. As Horseman seized her arms from behind, she twisted her body and jabbed back. She stabbed the syringe through Horseman’s tee-shirt into his abdomen and drove in the plunger. He felt the drug forcing its way into his flesh. He wondered what it would do to him. It was his own fault—he could easily have restrained her but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her; she who was so ill.

  Her violent fit spent, Loa held her head in her hands then slid to the floor. Coach pulled the syringe from Horseman’s belly. ‘Don’t worry, Joe, you’ll be okay. I’ll just settle Loa first. Bring some water.’ He half-lifted her onto the sofa again, coaxing her to sip the water Horseman brought. He lifted her legs up and lay her head on the cushion. She closed her eyes.

  ‘I’ll test her blood sugar now.’ He plucked a device from her ziplock bag and pricked a finger. He frowned at the gauge, cracked open an insulin dose and injected it into her abdomen. ‘There, she’ll be okay in a while. Best to let her rest and revive naturally. Her system didn’t take the strain of the last few days well, I’m afraid.’

  Horseman wondered what was happening to his own system. Was it the insulin making his head swim or was he imagining it?

  ‘Sit yourself down, Joe. I’ll get you something to eat and you’ll be right as rain.’ Horseman wasn’t sure he should trust Coach but he was so used to obeying him he flopped into the armchair. Coach rifled through the kitchen cupboards and returned with a packet of coconut biscuits. He ripped it open and placed it in Horseman’s lap. ‘Get as many of these into you as you can. I need you for the game tomorrow.’

  Dr Young appeared in the doorway, scanning the scene. ‘Everything under control here now? Professor, can I help? I’ve brought my bag of tricks.’ He turned to show them a bulging backpack but didn’t take it off.

  ‘Police! Nobody move, nobody move! Stay where you are, stay where you are!’ All four of them froze at DS Ratini’s angry shouts. Four officers appeared, truncheons drawn, then the detective, his pistol pointing at the ceiling.

  Professor Hau’ofa spoke first. ‘Detective Sergeant, Dr Young and I are treating two medical emergencies here. The situation is calm, so please let us continue.’

  A constable shut the door on a couple of neighbours who had rushed up to see what was going on. Ratini lowered his pistol and glowered at Dr Young. ‘Doctor, you alerted us to a violent situation here.’

  ‘I arrived just a minute ago, Detective Sergeant, at the urgent request of young Joe Horseman here, as you know. The situation is now under control. When Joe’s fit, he’s the best person to relate this evening’s events.’

  SATURDAY

  22

  Two uniformed constables drove Professor Hau’ofa to Albert Park, precisely an hour before the game was due to kick off. The waiting USP players were surprised but none of them thought too much about it and Horseman wasn’t going to fill anyone in. They’d play better if they knew nothing about what had happened last night up at Tamavua. He had to hand it to Coach, who behaved just as he always did—reviewing overall strategy and tactics, reminding them of Police players’ weaknesses, psyching them all up, as if nothing had changed. Then, just before they ran on to the field, he declared, ‘This game is for Seru, the greatest USP captain ever. Make him proud, boys! Show him what you can do! Win!’

  USP lost, as everyone expected. The absence of the USP captain and star player meant that the tougher and more experienced Police team won by a punishing margin. Afterwards, Coach had astonished the team by praising their tenacity. ‘Next time you play Police, you’ll score better and I know you’ll end up beating them. I want to thank you, team, for all you’ve given me. I’m sorry to tell you I may not see you for some time. I have to go to Tonga on a family matter. Until I return, my colleague Sitiveni Vula will keep you up to the mark and beyond. Your next training session will be on Monday afternoon as usual.’

  The hovering uniforms nodded. Professor Hau’ofa strolled with them to the waiting police car.

  When Horseman emerged from the changing rooms under the stand, the kit bags hanging from his shoulders, a tall figure waited beyond the clusters of bewildered students. Horseman called farewells to his team mates and approached Detective Inspector Navala.

  ‘Bula, Josefa. You played well. I see you could present a threat to Police in future.’

  ‘Vinaka, sir. Police deserve their reputation as the toughest team.’ He paused, awkward. ‘Do you want to interview me again, sir?’

  ‘Io, but not now. The statement you made this morning has been typed up and ready for you to check and sign. But you’ll be tired. If you drop in to the station on Monday morning, that will be fine.’

  ‘I know it’s not my business, but how is Loa?’

  ‘She’s recovering in the specialist diabetes unit at the hospital. The Tongan High Commissioner has notified me that when she’s stabilised, she’ll be moving in with his family for a while. He must know Fiji has an extradition treaty with Tonga, so she won’t be immune from prosecution under his roof. He’s probably just trying to look after her.’

  ‘Have you charged her, sir?’

  ‘Not yet, no. Do you think she should be charged?’

  ‘I don’t know. What does Dr Young have to say?’

  ‘Aha, you’ve zeroed in on the key question, Josefa. Well done. You deserve to know that Dr Young finalised his post mortem report this afternoon. He concludes that Seru died from a combination of toxins in his system. So, while insulin contributed to Seru’s death, it’s impossible to allocate proportional responsibility to the different toxins.’

  Horseman persisted. He had to know. ‘But would Seru have died if she hadn’t given him insulin?’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t. Dr Young was clear about that in his report.’

  ‘Loa told me insulin couldn’t be detected in blood. Was she wrong?’

  ‘No, she was right there. No trace remains after quite a short time. Dr Young found an injection site and tested the tissue around it. That’s the current technique, he told me. It took a few days, but he found a high concentration of insulin. However, as Loa denies any intention to kill Seru, it’s unlikely that a murder or even a manslaughter charge could be sustained. It might come down to assault and grievous bodily harm. However, she did quite deliberately save up insulin over a period of months by underdosing herself. I imagine the prosecutor would give that fact a great deal of weight.’ DI Navala looked thoughtful.

  ‘Will she be able to continue her studies, sir? She wants to be a doctor more than anything. She just made one mistake.’

  ‘It was a big one, though, wasn’t it? A big one indeed. It’s not for me to decide about continuing her studies, Josefa. It’s early days, early days in the criminal legal process. Strange things can happen there. But ask yourself, would you trust a doctor who did what she’s done?’

  Horseman looked down, feeling helpless. DI Navala had made a fair point, but he was haunted by Loa’s face as she entreated him to understand. Then a laughing Seru invaded his mind. Super-talented Seru, headed for success, whose life was snatched away. He’d been Horseman’s idol, but the last few days had uncovered his feet of clay.

  ‘Get in touch with me if you have any more questions or thoughts. You’ve played an important part in this case and I know you’ll want to follow it through.’

  ‘Vinaka, sir.’

  ‘I mean it. You asked good questions and kept asking. You showed persistence. You never let go of the ball. By the way, how keen are you on your Business course?’

  Horseman shifted his feet. This was something he’d been wondering about recently. How had DI Navala known? ‘Hard to say, sir. I’m only in my first year. My father’s an accounts clerk—he thinks the degree will provide me with plenty of work choices. But I really don’t know what I want to do after I graduate.’

  ‘Hmm. You strike me as a young man who’s more interested in justice than making money. Keep in mind that it’s much easier to investigate a crime from inside the police force, with the right training and resources.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that, sir.’

  ‘Think about it, Josefa. Think about it. Give me a call after you graduate, or before, if you decide Business Studies is not for you. Moce.’

  ‘Vinaka, sir. I’ll think about it. Moce.’ He set off for the bus stop but had only gone a few metres when DI Navala called his name. Horseman turned.

 

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