Today's Reading
He had inherited the unsolvable case upon his arrival in Fiji a year ago, a way for the inspector-general to sideline the disgraced officer who had been foisted on him against his wishes. Akal had been sent to Fiji as a deal done between the governors of Fiji and Hong Kong to distance him from the mistakes he had made in Hong Kong and to bolster the struggling, fledgling Fijian police force. Unfortunately, Inspector-General Thurstrom, who had had no say in this transfer, wasn't interested in an officer who had already made a serious lapse in judgement; as soon as Akal arrived, Thurstrom had handed Akal the Night Prowler case and washed his hands of him. The rest of the Suva Constabulary had followed their inspector-general's example and ignored Akal unless there was some cricket to be played.
The Night Prowler—what the Fiji Times called him, and, to Akal's chagrin, the name that had stuck with his colleagues on the force—was a Fijian man who, naked as the day he was born, peeped in the windows of the European children in Suva. He had done nothing more than look so far, but Akal thought that this couldn't last long. Eventually he would do something more than peep. No two descriptions of the man were the same, other than to concur that he was Fijian. Traumatised children did not make the best witnesses. Even granted Akal's brief reprieve from the Night Prowler in the previous year, as he worked the case of the missing coolie woman, he was resigned to chasing the elusive Night Prowler for the rest of his career.
Akal abandoned his futile review of the case notes. Seeking comfort, he pulled the latest letter from his father out of its usual place in his pocket and smoothed it out on the table in front of him. Even without reading the words, the familiar neat script on the rough, cheap paper brought a tumble of emotions. An aching longing for home, a feeling of gratitude, tinged with shame, for his father's support during Akal's fall from grace. The enduring feeling, which lasted when the intensity of all the others faded, was a sense of peace and belonging.
Akal's eyes tracked directly to the sentences that he treasured the most.
'Beta, I feel that you have honoured Vaheguru with your work on your last case. Finding justice for this poor Indian woman, when nobody else would represent her, is one of the finest actions you have ever done. I know you do not want to be in Fiji, yet if you were not there, who would have helped her daughter to know the truth?'
His father's words echoing in his mind, Akal resumed his review of the case notes. His good intentions lasted for about a minute before the sense of listlessness settled back in. He decided it was definitely time for a break. Standing, Akal stretched his arms overhead to his full impressive height, hitting the ceiling. He scratched a spot in his beard at the edge of his turban, and wandered into the main reception of the station to slouch against the front counter.
Taviti was in his usual place, manning the front desk, his nose buried in a book. No matter how capable he was, Taviti was likely permanently confined to this position; his uncle was a prominent Fijian chief who had sent Taviti to Suva to represent the village socially and politically. He did not approve of Taviti's interest in policing. Akal looked at his friend and wondered, not for the first time, why he preferred the frustrations of policing over the glamor and influence of the political career his uncle had lined up for him.
"What are you reading?" Akal asked Taviti.
Taviti held up a manual on police procedure, one Akal had read years ago when he was starting as a police officer in Hong Kong.
"Learning anything?"
Taviti snorted and threw the book down on the desk. "There is not much point, is there, if I'm just going to be stuck here."
"I really thought your uncle would agree to you being more active after the case last year. But I suppose he is worried about your safety?"
Last year, Taviti had saved Akal's life in a dramatic scene as they were wrapping up the missing persons investigation, resulting in a minor arm injury, which he had worn like a war hero. Taviti had hoped that his showing on the case would prove to his uncle that he could do more than administrative duties. He had been wrong.
"No. The opposite. He's now more convinced that I am wasting my time. I don't even think it is about keeping me safe. I think it's that he doesn't see the value in police work."
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