The dinghy from The Spirit of the Islands put the four of them ashore on the main island of Malaita at a spot roughly halfway between the site of the burnt-out ark and Sulufou shortly after dawn. Kella, Sister Conchita, Brother John and Florence Maddy stood uncertainly on the beach, as if reluctant to leave after the long but uneventful voyage back from Tikopia.
‘The parting of the ways,’ Kella said, wishing that he could have thought of something more original. ‘Are you sure you want to go up to the ark, Sister Conchita?’
‘I’d like to see what is left of it,’ said the nun. News of the destruction of the edifice had come to them over the local pidgin news on the radio.
Kella knew that Sister Conchita had more definite plans than that but that she would only reveal them in her own good time. He looked at Brother John, who was standing with Florence Maddy. He had deputed the Guadalcanal man to escort the musicologist along the coastal path back to her island. Brother John had appeared reluctant to accept the commission but had known better than to dispute the matter with Kella.
‘The sect of the ark will probably dwindle now that Papa Noah and Shem are dead,’ the young nun went on. ‘After all, as I told Sergeant Kella, there was only one main connection between the cult and Tikopia. It came to me as I watched Shem’s canoe taking him out to sea. Papa Noah based his cult on the story of Noah. He even built his own ark. The pagan Tikopians noticed that. Their own faith was based on the vaka tapu, the great canoe. When most of them became Christians, they gave this canoe to an overseas museum, as a relic of the past. But when Atanga and his followers started their revival of the pagan faith, they secretly built another vaka tapu.’
‘The one Shem was buried in,’ said Brother John.
‘Exactly,’ said Sister Conchita. ‘The Tikopian pagans decided to take over the Church of the Blessed Ark because it was based on the same icon as their own faith – a ship. The cult would give them a foothold on other islands, especially if Shem took over the church after Papa Noah’s death.’
‘That would give Shem a reason for killing Papa Noah,’ said Brother John.
‘Are you saying it was Shem who murdered Papa Noah?’ asked Sister Conchita. ‘It seems so out of character.’
‘Who else could it have been?’ Brother John asked.
We only have to accuse Shem if we want to direct attention away from the real killer, thought Kella, wondering why Brother John was being so bellicose. Aloud he said: ‘I don’t buy Shem as the killer. He wasn’t a fighting man. That’s why he wouldn’t become the high priest.’
‘All those Tikopians are hard men,’ said Brother John with conviction. ‘Some of them must have murdered Abalolo, the Christian minister on Tikopia, and hidden his body.’
‘Oh, no!’ said Florence. She coloured when she saw everyone looking at her, but cleared her throat and continued gamely. ‘I mean, Abalolo isn’t dead,’ she said. ‘Some of the Christian women looking after me told me about him. They said that he had left Tikopia suddenly on a government boat six months ago, without giving any reason.’
No one in the group reacted visibly or said much after that. Soon afterwards they started taking their individual paths away from the beach. Kella watched them go. Apart from Florence Maddy, each of them was being secretive about his or her mission. He had no idea why Sister Conchita was heading for the site of the ark, and he was sure that Brother John had his own destinations as well. Mind, he himself was just as bad, thought the sergeant. The news that Brother Abalolo had probably been on Malaita for months meant that Kella was going to have to change his plans. He searched in his mind for an appropriate expression from the British crime movies he enjoyed watching so much at the Point Cruz cinema, claiming that they helped him with his understanding of colloquial English. Finally he settled on one.
‘I must see one of my snouts,’ he said, in what he hoped was an imitation of Leslie Dwyer, one of his favourite actors, and started walking towards the mountains.