“Really,” I said. “The Japs massacred his workers and Peter Fraser, his assistant manager. Porter escaped only because he’d gone to get their boat ready.”
“Apparently somebody shot a Japanese soldier when they landed,” Kaz said. “It was a reprisal.”
“Well, I could see how that would get old Silas’s blood up,” Coburn said. “I’ll have to look him up and let him know I’m alive. He probably thought I’d bought it on Bougainville.”
We chatted some more but it was evident Coburn didn’t know much of any consequence about Daniel Tamana. We shook hands, complimenting him on his coffee, and headed back to the jeep.
“Pavau,” I said, stopping to look out over the fields, the plants laid out in neat rows, gracing the curves of the hills. “Why do all roads lead to Pavau, and what does it mean?”
“Perhaps it’s simply an island where a number of people have traveled to and from,” Kaz said. “Like many in the Solomons.”
“There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, some thread that we haven’t yet unraveled. An inconsistency. But what is it?”
“Something about Pavau, then,” Kaz said, leaning against the jeep.
I watched the workers, hauling bushels of pulled weeds out from the cleared rows, dumping them at the edge of the jungle. They walked between plants, crossing rows, holding the baskets high to avoid damaging the plants. I saw the natives on Russell Island again, fading into the bush, disappearing into the dappled shadows.
They moved gracefully, I thought. Those on Russell and these workers in the fields of Rendova. Brought up in the bush, did they learn from childhood how to glide quickly and quietly through the dense greenery? The sense I had on Russell Island was that they had vanished, leaving not a leaf disturbed by their passing.
So what of it?
What was it that bothered me about natives moving through the bush, quietly or otherwise?
What did it have to do with this case?
Pavau. Why did everything come back to Pavau? Daniel Tamana worked there and he was killed, victim number one. Sam Chang went there and spoke to John Kari about expanding his business. Victim number two. Deanna Pendleton hadn’t been there, as far as I knew, but she must have known Chang from Bougainville, and she definitely knew Daniel. Victim number three.
“Billy!” Kaz said, in a voice loud enough to tell me it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “Are we going?”
“Where? What’s next?”
“You’re not giving up, are you?”
“Dammit, Kaz, I’m out of ideas,” I snapped. “This image of natives moving through the bush keeps eating away at me. I don’t know what it means, and I don’t have much more than that to go on. What about you?”
“I think you are correct about Pavau,” Kaz said, taking a seat in the jeep. “It is at the center of things, but not in a way that sheds any light on the matter. I wonder how many Japanese are on the island right now.”
“You’re not serious,” I said, hoisting myself into the driver’s seat.
“No,” Kaz said. “Although if there were Coastwatchers there to guide us, I might consider it. A visit could help pull the pieces of this puzzle together.”
“Daniel wanted an assignment there, didn’t he?” I said. I felt my mind shifting into gear, images and memories falling into place, and I finally began to see things clearly.
“Yes, that’s what Dickie Miller said. Sexton vetoed it because the island was too small to hide in.”
“And what else did Dickie tell you about Pavau and Daniel?” I said.
Kaz rubbed his chin, coaxing out the recollection. “That Daniel knew the island very well,” he said, still unsure of where I was going.
“Every path and hiding place, that’s exactly what you said. You were quoting Dickie Miller, right?”
“Yes, those were his exact words,” Kaz said, his face brightening as he sat bolt upright. “And how could he know every path on the island-”
“If he hadn’t been to the north coast, where Silas Porter’s plantation was. So not only did John Kari lie about knowing Daniel, Porter lied as well.”
“But does that follow?” Kaz said. “Perhaps Daniel simply went overland to visit a friend working at Porter’s plantation and never talked with the owner himself.”
“The way Coburn described Daniel, he was more of a loner,” I said. “If John Kari had worked there, I could see Daniel looking him up, since they were so much alike. But no one else.”
“But why would he have gone?” Kaz asked.
“To better himself,” I said, trying to put myself in Daniel’s place. “To see if there was a job available. He would have to have met Porter.”
“Why would Silas Porter lie?” Kaz said. “I am still not convinced.”
“No,” I said, finally understanding the importance of those natives retreating into the bush. “Daniel crossed to the north side. Everyone’s been talking about the difficult terrain, but they were looking at it from a European’s perspective. Well educated or not, Daniel knew the jungle and its ways. So the question remains, why did Porter lie?”
“We know why John Kari lied,” Kaz said. “Because he’d been a thief.”
“But who could Silas Porter have stolen from?” I said. “He’s the independent type. I don’t think he’d worry about other people’s opinions.”
“Do you see a motive in Porter’s actions, whatever the reason?” Kaz asked, not unreasonably. I shook my head, trying to figure that one out.
“If you boys are going to hang about, I might put you to work,” Coburn said, coming out of the house and giving us a wave. He walked to the barn with his rolling gait, his bad leg not seeming to hinder him much.
“He’s pretty spry for an older gentleman,” Kaz said.
“It must be the coffee,” I said, and went to start the jeep. Then my hand froze.
“What is it?” Kaz asked.
“Old. He called Porter old Silas, didn’t he?”
“A figure of speech, old chap,” Kaz said. “What of it?”
“Come on,” I said, jumping out of the jeep and following Coburn into the barn.
“What now?” Coburn barked as he turned, wrench in hand, about to get to work on a tractor engine.
“Describe Silas Porter for me, will you?” I said. “Then no more questions.”
“Silas? Oh, about five foot ten, I’d say, a stocky man. Bald patch on the crown of his head. Black, wiry hair, going grey. Thick beard, last I saw him, almost as long as mine. Why? I thought you knew him.”
“I thought so, too,” I said. “I’m sorry to say he’s dead. And if you see Peter Fraser, be careful. Your life is in danger.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“But Peter Fraser is dead, not Silas Porter,” Kaz said as I drove the jeep down the steep path to the coast road.
“The man we know as Porter is over six feet tall. Brown hair, no bald spot, with a wiry, not stocky, build. I think he’s Peter Fraser.”
“Oh dear God,” Kaz said. “That explains everything.”
“It does. Daniel Tamana met the real Silas Porter, and Peter Fraser for that matter.”
“Then the Japanese come, and Peter Fraser finds himself the sole survivor of a massacre,” Kaz said, working it out as he went along. “Hardly anyone knows Silas Porter, so he takes on his identity in order to secure possession of the plantation. He counted on the chaos of war to cover his tracks.”
“Right. And remember, he had good reason to think the three people he had to worry about were dead.”
“Josh Coburn, because he had left for Bougainville and walked right into the Japanese invasion,” Kaz said. “Sam Chang, also on Bougainville. As a Chinese national and a man of military age, he was likely to be killed by the Japanese. And finally Daniel Tamana.”
“Yes,” I said. “The loss of the ferry with all those refugees must have been a well-known fact. Porter-I mean Fraser-may have even seen the bodies when he took the launch and made his escape. It was a calculated risk that Daniel was among them, but a good one.”
“But then Daniel saw him on the boat from Guadalcanal. Or he saw Daniel.”