Death Sentence: Fiji Islands Mysteries 4 by B.M. Allsopp

Author:B.M. Allsopp [Allsopp, B.M.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Coconut Press
Published: 2021-11-30T00:00:00+00:00

29

One good thing—Reddy’s son and Prakash had named the same solicitor. As Darsh hadn’t heard from his father for over ten years, that probably meant Dev Reddy was a longstanding client whom the lawyer knew well. Horseman checked his notebook again. The offices of Navneet Pandey Esq. Bachelor of Laws (University of the South Pacific) were conveniently close to the Nausori police station and magistrate’s chambers. It would be a minor detour to drop in on his way back to Suva.

Like most of Nausori, the building housing Pandey & Associates was dusty and in need of repainting. The fine, reddish silt of the Rewa River flats readily broke down under cultivation, to be caught by the breeze and deposited everywhere. School children enjoyed shuffling through it while waiting for the bus, kicking it at each other while walking along the streets. Whether dry, warm and powdery, or wet and gluey, it coated every surface in Nausori, including the open hallway and stairs that led up to the lawyers’ offices.

Inside, the ambience was fresh and pleasant. The glass louvres sparkled, the blades of the ceiling fan were free of brown fuzz, the soft mint walls soothed and the deep red curtains added a little drama. Together with the matching timber office furniture, the waiting room might quell the doubts of a new client wondering if he’d made the right choice of legal advisor.

A middle-aged woman in an embroidered salwar kameez greeted him at the reception counter. Her brown almond eyes lit her cheerful round face. ‘I am very sorry, Inspector, but Mr Pandey is in the middle of a consultation. I am guessing that he won’t be free for another twenty minutes. At least. You are most welcome to wait. I can offer tea.’

‘Thank you, but I have another quick errand. I’ll come back in twenty minutes if Mr Pandey will be free then. If not, I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.’

‘I know he will be making time for you, Detective Inspector.’

His quick errand was to fill his stomach. Because the Indian population was in the majority here, Nausori outdid Suva in the quality and variety of its Indian cuisine. And as a dedicated roti fancier, Horseman knew where to go. Just a hundred metres along the street was a hole-in-the-wall wedged between a pizza café and printery. The spice-infused steam made his mouth water. He was glad it was mid-afternoon and he was the only customer.

Mahen, the proprietor, grinned. ‘Nice to see you, Joe! Your usual pumpkin and pea roti, isn’t it?’

‘Can’t resist, man! But I should try something different, too. Your choice.’

‘My goodness me, you must be trying goat curry, mango chutney and cucumber, Joe. Come in and be sitting down while you eat.’

He raised the hinged plywood counter and swung back the panel underneath. Horseman stepped through, sidled past the rudimentary kitchen set up in what was just an alley between the shops. Powered by a gas cylinder, everything could be packed up and removed when the council inspectors were about.

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