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Akal, Taviti, and Dr. Holmes were an anomaly in the crowd, which was segregated along racial lines. Taviti was the only Fijian present, and Akal the only Sikh. Add an older, dignified British doctor to their little trio, sitting apart from everyone else, and the incongruity was complete. They ignored the occasional curious glances cast their way. This friendship was Akal's lifeline in an otherwise unfriendly environment, so he was beyond grateful that the other two had thrown their lot in with him.

"Who are they?" asked Taviti, nudging Akal and nodding in the direction of two women who had just arrived, one who looked to be in her early twenties and the other perhaps approaching fifty. They were clearly related, both sporting the same red hair, though the young woman's shone fiercely in the sun and the older lady's was more muted with grey.

Akal shook his head with a small frown. He didn't recognise them, which was unusual; with so few Europeans in Suva, he recognised everyone, even if he didn't know them by name. They could have come in from a plantation, but he thought he would have heard if there was a beautiful young woman living on a plantation. It seemed more likely that they were new arrivals. Akal and Taviti both looked questioningly towards the doctor.

"No, no idea. Though that is Hugh Clancy they are joining. Looks like he may have some family visiting."

Hugh Clancy was the editor of the Fiji Times, the best source of news and a powerful institution in the colony. Clancy was not afraid to criticise the administration and report on things the governor would prefer to remain quiet. Last year, the Fiji Times had published claims made by a Catholic priest, Father Hughes, that an Indian coolie woman had been kidnapped from a plantation. The inspector-general had reluctantly sent Akal out to investigate, instructing him to close the case quickly and quietly. Akal's failure to follow these instructions had cemented his commanding officer's already poor opinion of him.

The two unfamiliar ladies had settled into some seats and were looking around, the younger woman more animated as she pointed at various objects. The older lady seemed content to nod indulgently, occasionally adding a comment of her own. Akal followed the young woman's gestures, seeing the scene with fresh eyes.

This was the very image of a British colony. The cricket stumps set up and waiting for the match to begin. The natural environment of the tropical island ruthlessly tamed to allow for a game which was transplanted from half the world away. The fair-skinned Britishers who were not meant for the Fijian sun wilting in the humidity. Behind, the graceful edifice of the Grand Pacific Hotel. And beyond all of that, the endless ocean.

"Here they come. Time to shine, young man," declared the doctor. Akal turned to look over his right shoulder towards the road. The missing cricket players were passing through the palm trees, arriving en masse in their crisp white uniforms.

Akal rose to join his team, while the doctor and Taviti went their separate ways to greet various other European spectators. Both of them had far warmer greetings from their friends than Akal did from his teammates, Europeans and Indians alike, most of whom had thawed enough to give him a curt nod. The inspector-general ignored him. Akal imagined that if he wasn't such a superb bowler, something the team otherwise lacked, the inspector-general would have barred him from the team. Still, the curt nods represented a vast improvement to his reception even six months ago.

The coin was tossed; the Suva Constabulary would field first. Akal was first to bowl. He loped his long-limbed stride towards the pitch. On his way there, he glanced towards where the flame-haired woman had been seated. His eyes snagged on hers for a long moment. A small, secret smile lit up her face.

"Play!" the umpire called.

Akal looked down at the pitch, rubbed the seam of the ball, and prepared for the run up. He pushed away the warm buzz that smile had given him and focused on the task at hand, making another bid for acceptance in this exile home of his.

On Monday morning, Akal was sitting in a cramped room at the Totogo station, Suva's central police station, removed from the celebratory backslapping still going on from the previous day. Despite his own contributions to the police team win, Akal hadn't even tried to tell his own stories in the face of the ongoing antipathy towards him from his fellow officers. Instead, he was once more reviewing his notes from the Night Prowler case, the bane of his existence.