“Jack Kennedy told me he dropped by that day,” I said.
“Right,” Sexton replied. “He was looking for Reg Evans, the Coastwatcher who sent the two native scouts to find him. Reg is still on station, I’m afraid. Tough spot out on Kolombangara.”
“If I recall, Jack said Archer and Gordie were here, Daniel, Deanna, and John Kari. What about Silas Porter?”
“Silas was late, now that I think about it. John said he’d met a mate of his on the tender, another planter who’d been out to Rendova to check on his holdings. They went off for a drink, then Silas showed up here sometime in the afternoon,” Sexton said.
“After Daniel left?” I asked.
“Yes, about a half hour or so, I think. Daniel had asked permission to leave, said that he’d heard an aunt of his was sick,” Sexton said. “I told him to be back in the morning, and that was that.”
“No aunt sick from Malaita,” Vouza said. “Daniel made up story so he could look for Sam Chang without raising suspicion.”
“But suspicion of what?” I asked. “Why keep that a secret?”
“Because Daniel and Sam Chang both knew something,” Vouza said. “You find out what, you find out who killed them.”
“Is Kennedy really a suspect?” Sexton asked.
I glanced at Vouza, whose steady gaze betrayed nothing.
“No one is ruled out,” I said. “It could have been anyone who knew Daniel, who could get him to meet on a deserted stretch of beach. What was his frame of mind? Did he seem distracted?”
“Not that I noticed,” Sexton said. “Although we had a lot of information to go over. Daniel was very professional. His briefing about the situation on Choiseul was concise but in depth. He did seem in a hurry to leave when he finished, but I attributed that to a desire to see his aunt before the situation worsened.”
“But in reality, he wanted to find Sam Chang,” I said. “I need to find out who he talked to in Chinatown, assuming that’s where he went to look for Chang. He may have said something important.”
“Everything a man says on the day he goes to the ancestors is important,” Vouza said. Hard to disagree with that. “What will you do after Chinatown?”
“Looks like I’m going to Rendova,” I said. “I’ll talk to this Coburn fellow and see what he remembers about Daniel. Then snoop around the PT base and see if anyone remembers Daniel and Dickie coming through.”
“If you want, hitch a ride with Porter and Kari,” Sexton said. “They’re leaving later this afternoon for Rendova. The two of them are getting their teleradio gear and supplies sorted right now.”
“On that crate we took to Malaita?” I asked.
“No, your navy is sending them up on a PT boat from Sesapi harbor,” Sexton said with a chuckle. “You’ll make better time. It’s about a hundred and fifty miles, which should take four or five hours, the last few after dark. Or you could go with Archer and Gordie tomorrow, same route.”
“Watch out for the Kawanishi,” Vouza said. “They see you in the daytime and they see your wake at night. Watch when light, listen when dark.”
“If you’re looking up and the stars suddenly disappear, say your prayers,” Sexton said.
“And get ready to greet your ancestors,” Vouza said, and drained his beer.
“I might as well go today,” I said. “That way I can be back when Kaz returns from Australia.”
“You think Dickie will be of any help?” Sexton asked.
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea who can help. I can’t find any sort of motive, except the possibility that Daniel and perhaps Sam Chang knew some secret that endangered the killer.”
“Enough to murder twice?” Vouza said. “That is plenty danger.”
“Yeah, the stakes would have to be significant,” I said. “If the killings are connected, then someone has a great deal to lose. Otherwise, why risk it? But I wonder what would be so valuable out here, with half the Solomons occupied by the Japanese? What’s worth killing your own people for when the Japs are ready to oblige?”
“It was a Melanesian and a Chinese who were murdered,” Vouza said. “Maybe neither was the killer’s people.”
He was right. Jack had mentioned sex and money as potential motives. Hatred ran a close third. Was this a white man’s crime, committed by someone who saw himself above the law? I didn’t like the direction that line of thought was taking.
“Anything else unusual either of you can remember about that day?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Sexton said, closing his eyes as if to see the scene in his memory. “Wait, Daniel spoke to Deanna before he left. A quick, whispered conversation on the verandah. No idea what they talked about.”
“Did anyone overhear them?” I asked.
“I doubt it,” Sexton said. “Daniel was close to her, his voice too low to hear. I could see them from inside, we all could, through the open windows and doorway.”
“Did it look like an argument?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Sexton said. “I really didn’t pay much attention.”
“Deanna was from Vella Lavella,” I said, “just like Sam Chang.”
“Where is the girl now?” Vouza asked.
“With Jack Kennedy,” I answered, and ran to my jeep.
Chapter Seventeen
I blasted the horn as I sped along the rutted lanes that passed for roads on Tulagi, sending natives, sailors, and the occasional goat scurrying into the bush or stumbling into the drainage ditch lining the roadway. Deanna was from Vella Lavella, and had been sought out by Daniel Tamana, as had Sam Chang, who lived on the same island. I didn’t know the reason why, but in my gut I knew she was in danger. If I was wrong, then she and I could share a laugh over it.
Jack had said they were going to Chinatown to eat somewhere along the docks. I drove over the crest of the hill behind the hospital, negotiating a couple of switchbacks way too fast, braking and skidding my way onto the coast road before reaching the outskirts of Chinatown. I scanned the vehicles parked by the water, watching for Jack and Deanna.
Nothing.
I parked along the waterfront and jumped from the jeep, following a clutch of navy officers who hopefully were headed for the best restaurant in town. A wharf jutted out from the dock area, bearing a jumble of weathered wooden buildings on stilts, the waves crashing onto the shore beneath. Fishing craft bobbed on the incoming tide. Sea birds flocked overhead, scouting the leavings from the boats and the rickety stalls shaded with palm fronds, selling the catch of the day. The aroma of fish, saltwater, and spices filled the air, reminding me of another Chinatown half a world away. Some Boston streets I knew smelled a lot like this, especially in the stifling August heat.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve and walked the dock, getting the lay of the land and keeping my eyes peeled for Deanna. I walked by a few open-air markets and a fried fish stand where the cook offered his dishes served on a taro leaf. Across the street, stores sold rice, vegetables, and a few scrawny chicken carcasses. None of them the sort of place Jack described.
As I neared the water, I spotted Jack leaning against a railing on the wharf, next to rows of tables and chairs set out under a thatched canopy. Spicy aromas drifted out from the kitchen, along with the clatter of pans and the chatter of the cooks. A normal day, doing a land-office business with officers searching out a change from mess hall rations.
But it wasn’t a normal day. I could tell by the look on Jack’s face, before he spotted me. He was irritated. A glance at his watch. A frown.
Deanna hadn’t shown.
“Jack,” I said, as I worked my way through along the crowded wharf, packed with khaki, calico lap-laps, navy blue dungarees, colorful silk dresses, and pale linens. He saw the worry in my eyes.