Devil-Devil (28 page)

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Authors: Graeme Kent

Tags: #Mystery

BOOK: Devil-Devil
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‘You do it,' said Kella, his happiness intensifying. ‘I have a modicum of faith in you.'

‘Up yours too,' said Ha'a equably. His loud remark caused disapproving heads to turn from the benches around them. Ha'a started to slide away. He had been gunning for the Chos for a long time. ‘I've had the place staked out since noon.' A thought occurred to the fat policeman and he slid back towards Kella.

‘By the way,' he muttered, ‘Joe Dontate says that if it will help, he'll be willing to give evidence in court that Cho tried to bribe you and that you turned him down. Can't be bad, eh?'

‘Better than a slap in the belly with a raw bonito,' agreed Kella, thinking of the beating he had undergone on the beach. He looked up. ‘By the way, does Superintendent Grice know anything about your plans?'

‘Of course not,' said Ha'a, looking puzzled. ‘Should I have told him?'

Kella thought for a moment. Then he decided that he and the superintendent were never destined to be bosom friends anyway.

‘No,' he said decisively. ‘What the hell! Why should we break the habit of a lifetime?'

‘Why indeed?' agreed Sergeant Ha'a. The plump policeman sketched a salute and walked away, deliberately stepping on a number of well-shod expatriate feet as he did so. Kella returned to his thoughts. If he could return the
havu
to its waterfall temple, and persuade the bush people that it had been the long-gone American Mallory who had killed Hita, he might find himself accepted in the Kwaio territory again, especially as Pazabosi should now be well disposed towards him.

Kella thought that he ought to be able to persuade the bush people that the recent events were all part of a bargain negotiated with the ghosts. That should bring at least a temporary peace to the area, especially when it became known that Solomon Bulko was going to serve a long term of imprisonment for the theft of the icon and the attempted murder of Sister Conchita.

Kella was looking forward to returning to Malaita. For one thing, there was every chance that Elizabeth would still be waiting in Auki for a rare and hopefully long-delayed trading vessel to Sikaiana. He would also have to think hard about John Deacon. Kella considered the traces of yellow powder he had discovered in Lofty Herman's hut. It must have been the residue of the gold prospected by the beachcomber from the river nearby. No islander would have entered the
tabu
hut to steal anything. Mendana Gau had fled from the threat of the Japanese long before Herman's death.

That left only Deacon. Kella had been wrong in suspecting him of trying to kill Sister Conchita, but there were too many other black marks on the plantation owner's record in the islands. Kella would have to find out exactly when the Australian had sailed from Malaita to join in fighting the Japanese on Guadalcanal in 1942. The police sergeant was prepared to bet that he had not gone until after the death of Lofty Herman.

Almost certainly, Deacon had stolen the deposits of gold stored in Herman's hut. He had then left in his vessel to harry the Japanese, having recruited Kella and Pazabosi and a few others as his crew members. After the war he must have sold the gold to pay a lump sum for the first few years' lease on the plantation.

By buying the plantation lease with anything stolen from a dead man, Deacon had breached custom law, so now all bets were off. Perhaps, thought Kella, it would be a fitting punishment to seize the land back from the Australian and at the same time please his brothers by letting them take over and work the copra when the current lease ran out at the end of the year. Kella would have to consult the spirits about the matter.

In the meantime, there was the white man's church service to enjoy, he thought, relaxing. Again, he wondered who had invited him. He hoped that it had been Sister Conchita. He did not yet know her well, but her doughty reaction to the dangers of the swamp had mightily impressed him. It saddened Kella to think that because of his slowness in solving the crimes on Malaita, Sister Conchita and Father Pierre had been forced to spend time away from their beloved mission at Ruvabi.

Perhaps it had all been for the best though, he thought optimistically. He had heard about Sister Conchita's pilgrimage up Mount Austen to meet the dream-maker. Father Pierre must have thought highly of the young nun to send her up into the high ground in an effort to start to add the Lau truth to her existing Christian beliefs. She still had a long way to go, but it would not be dull in the Solomons with the Praying Mary around, and it would certainly be interesting to observe her progress. Although, thought Kella ruefully, with the nun's apparent predilection for stirring up trouble, it would be best, whenever possible, to do so from a safe distance.

The voices of the island choir swelled. A procession entered the church from the back, led by the bishop. After a coterie of priests, Sister Conchita and other white-robed teachers followed him in a demure line, eyes cast down. As she passed his row Kella looked up at the sister. Her face was calm and contemplative, almost rigid in its concentration. Yet as she glided by her eyes flickered up for a moment in the police sergeant's direction and Kella could have sworn that the nun had winked at him.

In the same moment, Sister Conchita started to mouth something. The sergeant leant forward to catch the breathed words before they were borne lightly away.

‘We're going home, Kella!' whispered Sister Conchita joyously.

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