A Disappearance in Fiji

For Aaji and Nani and those who came before them. PRAISE FOR A DISAPPEARANCE IN FIJI‘This is an utterly charming novel. The setting is exotic and the characters are intriguing. Nilima Rao is an author well worth discovering.’ —Alexander McCall Smith, bestselling author of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series ‘Meet Sergeant Akal Singh, the complex and charming hero of a thoroughly original mystery set in 1914 Fiji. Fans of Golden Age mysteries will relish this debut novel by a compelling new talent, Nilima Rao. More, please!’—Sujata Massey, Agatha Award–winning author of The Widows of Malabar Hill ‘A poignant and entertaining read … Sergeant Akal Singh is a charmingly imperfect and captivating protagonist. I love Akal and hope we’ll be seeing a lot more of him!’ —Ovidia Yu, author of the Aunty Lee Singaporean Mysteries ‘A marvellous debut that beautifully paints life in a part of the world that few of us have a chance to visit. The highlight of Nilima Rao’s well-crafted novel set in Fiji in the days of British colonial rule is the collision of cultures and class and how one man is charged with the task of unlocking the mysteries they create. A pleasure to read.’ —Colin Cotterill, author of the Dr. Siri Paiboun Mysteries ‘A gripping, authentic and brilliantly told mystery story that brings to life colonial era Fiji with a wealth of intriguing characters and underlying tensions. I have found a new favourite mystery series!’ —A.M. Stuart, author of the Harriet Gordon Mysteries THE FIJI TIMES, MONDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1914.Chop Chop… No, no, Mr Editor. Mr Crompton, speaking at the ‘Night Prowlers’ meeting didn’t say we want ‘bodies’, we’ve got quite enough ‘busy’ ones in Fiji, he said ‘bobbies’, good old common or garden peelers, Rogers, Cops or John Hops! CHAPTER ONE‘The Night Prowler was out again last night.’ This portent of doom first thing in the morning made Sergeant Akal Singh once again forget to duck as he walked through the door of the Totogo Police Station in central Suva. ‘Arre yaar,’ he muttered with feeling. In the six months he had been in Fiji, Akal had knocked his head on that very door any number of times. It wasn’t a particularly low door, but his turban added inches to his already formidable height. Akal smoothed his hands over the turban, cursing the lack of mirror in the sparsely furnished front room of the station, or indeed any of the police buildings. One had been ordered for the European officers’ barracks, but the ship from Sydney had been delayed. There was no talk of ordering one for the Indian and Fijian barracks. ‘Is my turban correct?’ he asked Taviti. The Fijian corporal was manning the front desk, and had been the one to deliver the news about Akal’s current nemesis. ‘Um, I think it’s alright, sir. I don’t know much about turbans.’ ‘Is it straight? Is any hair falling out? Are there lumps and bumps?’‘Yes, sir, straight, sir, no hair falling out, sir. Seems like a lot of work.’ Akal continued to smooth his hands over the sides of his turban, checking everything was in place despite Taviti’s reassurances. ‘It’s a bloody bugger in this heat, I tell you. But the ladies love it.’ He waited for Taviti to scoff at this, given the dearth of women in Akal’s life, but instead the Fijian man mirrored Akal, his hand running thoughtfully over his tight wiry curls. ‘You think I should try it?’‘Do you think you can handle all the women?’ ‘Probably not. But my wife could!’ Taviti shot back as he slapped the counter, resulting in a satisfyingly meaty echo throughout the room. Both men roared with laughter until they ran out of breath. Akal had never in his life laughed as hard as he did with Taviti. No matter whether something was actually funny or not, Akal found himself convulsing in breathless spasms, Taviti’s laughter rolling over him, while not really knowing why. Still chuckling, Akal dropped down into the spindly wooden visitor’s chair and started to inspect the dust on his shoes.Akal and Taviti’s fledgling friendship was unique in the Suva police force. They were of an age, Akal twenty-five to Taviti’s twenty-six, but many of their colleagues were a similar age so this alone didn’t explain their rapport. There were other Indians in the police force and plenty of Fijians. The language barrier left them all at arm’s distance, making themselves understood with a garbled mixture of English, Hindi and Fijian when they had to, but never really trusting one another. Even without the language barrier, Akal had not broken through with any of the other Indian officers. None of them were Punjabi Sikhs, so they did not have the immediate bond of home and religion. In fact, they all regarded him with a mixture of resentment and contempt. They were constables to his sergeant, and they had not seen him earn his stripes, so they had no idea whether he was capable or not. Add to that the rumours about the reasons behind his abrupt departure from Hong Kong, and it was no wonder that they gave Akal a wide berth. When Akal had disembarked from the ship that brought him from Hong Kong to Fiji six months ago, Taviti had been waiting for him, having been sent to collect Akal and take him to the police station. Taviti had approached Akal as he stood swaying on the dock, trying to adjust to solid ground. A few minutes into their walk to the station, Akal and Taviti had adjusted to their vastly different accents and discovered in each other a reasonable grasp of English. Taviti immediately started teasing Akal about his inability to walk a straight line, and their friendship had been quickly cemented. ‘I cannot believe we have all started calling this bugger the “Night Prowler”. Bloody Fiji Times and their stupid names,’ Akal grumbled. ‘What would you rather call him? He prowls around at night. Seems