by Fred Galvin
“What toothbrush?”
“Eeeewww!”
We took the walk from the marina up a path to Rick’s and were met outside the main entrance by Winston Dixon. He greeted Roje and Ronnie warmly. Ronnie introduced me and Winston took my hand in a firm grip. He was tall and thin, casually but neatly dressed. His smile was wide and bright and his English was delightfully skewed by a strong British accent.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dan. Ronika has spoken often of you and in glowing terms. I understand you two were detective partners in New York.”
“Yes, that’s right. She is, rather was, the finest police officer I’ve worked with. I understand your daughter is an officer in Montego Bay?”
He beamed, obviously proud. “Oh yes, indeed. She wishes to become a detective like Ronika. I hope you will meet her during your stay.”
Roje said, “I believe she will be meeting us at the Lounge when we return.”
“Excellent. Come, let’s have a drink here and watch some divers then we can walk over to my house. Do you like stone crab?”
I asked Winston about the British accent. He explained that his family moved there when he was very young as his father was a professor at Cambridge University.
Along with many tourists, we watched as experts dove from the cliffs into the ocean below, many doing various gyrations before hitting the water. I had to admit that I was impressed by their courage. I asked Ronnie if she had ever tried.
“Once from that platform over there,” gesturing to a ledge about fifteen feet above the sea where several tourists, in various states of inebriation, were leaping awkwardly into the blue sea below. “It wasn’t a pretty sight.”
One woman, obviously feeling no pain, tried diving and didn’t quite make it to vertical. In fact she barely made it past horizontal. The slap sound as she hit the water on her belly made me flinch and an audible “Oooh” could be heard from the gallery. Several men swam her way in case she needed help. Clearly they were there to help anyone too tipsy to swim to shore. She was okay but wasn’t too animated. Belly-flopping onto water from a decent height can be like landing on solid ground. They helped her to shore where her husband took over. Ronnie chuckled. “No action for him tonight.”
After a drink Winston escorted us around Rick’s to his house several blocks up a residential street. He had a bucket full of stone crabs and we ate and drank Jamaican beer into the tropical night. Winston was a widower and lived alone. His daughter Gabi lived in Montego Bay and visited him as often as she could. I got the impression Roje also spent quite a bit of time with them both. It was a good night.
The next morning we bade Winston farewell, boarded the Sea Nymph, and headed back toward Montego Bay. I did some more fishing and lost, due to my incompetence, what I estimated to be the biggest fish in the Caribbean Sea. Ronnie could barely contain her laughter. I did catch a moderately sized grouper. We put it with the skipjack from the previous day for dinner at the Lounge. As we slowly cruised into the marina, Delyse was standing on the dock to greet us. As I got off she gave me a dazzling smile and a warm hug. Both Ronnie and Roje watched this and I detected they were pleased that their mother seemed happy with my company. So was I.
My visit was off to a good start. I didn’t know it but that was going to change.
Chapter 13: Louis Satterfield
“Pretty good for a city boy.” Delyse was holding up both my skipjack tuna and grouper, pretending to have trouble due to their weight. “Come with me while I prep them for our dinner. I believe they can feed us both. The others will have to fend for themselves.”
“Others? You mean Roje and Ronnie?”
She chuckled. “It amuses me that you call her Ronnie. She has always been Ronika here.”
“Is it okay that I do? That’s how I’ve always known her.”
“Oh, yes. That’s fine as long as she’s happy with it and I believe she is. Anyway, by ‘others’ I mean Ronika and Roje, of course. Also, Gabi and Ife (she pronounced the name EE-fay with the accent on the EE) will be here tonight.”
“Oh, yes. I know Gabi and Roje are together but I don’t believe I know Ife.”
“Ah, so Ronika has not told you of Ife. That’s not surprising. She very seldom shares personal information.”
“That I also know. We worked together for years and I got precious little out of her. Hell, I never knew she was from Jamaica until after she was gone from New York. So is this Ife a boyfriend?”
“I guess you could say that. His name is Ife Barley and he’s a local musician. He plays the bass guitar for a group called The Reggae Rastas. There are three in the group, guitar, bass, and drums. They frequently provide nightly entertainment in the Flip Flop Lounge. They are very good and will be here tonight so you can meet him.
I was intrigued that Ronnie may have a love interest but I wanted to respect her desire to be super-private. So I did not ask any further probing questions. However I had heard of Rastafarians but knew little about them beyond the stereotypical dreadlocks look. So I stupidly asked, “Rasta? Does that mean he has dreadlocks?”
Delyse laughed as if she were dealing with an inquisitive child, which, in a way, she was. She put a hand on my shoulder which felt wonderful. “Yes, Dan. Ife and the other band members have dreadlocks. I believe you’ll find Ife to be a very pleasant individual. I am pleased that Ronika is interested in him.”
I decided to leave it there and went to my room to clean up and rest a little for what I expected to be an evening filled with stimuli. (Stimuli, you say? What is he thinking? Certainly not what you’re implying with your risqué minds, although I had to admit that had occurred to me.) I was looking forward to a good meal and stimulating company, including meeting Ronnie’s boyfriend Ife and Gabi, Roje’s girlfriend.
Delyse suggested I meet her in the kitchen in a half-hour to see how my catches would transition from sea to table.
~~~
Overall the evening was great. I had realized the night at Rick’s Café and Winston’s home was one of the few times I really was able to let go and enjoy myself in a social environment since Jen died. This evening at the Flip Flop Lounge managed to eclipse the previous night and I actually had begun to believe I may have a chance at being happy again. Of course, I was nagged by a certain level of guilt but that was offset by the certainty that Jen would want me to move on and be happy. I know that seems easy for me to say, perhaps that I’m rationalizing my desire to explore a possible relationship with Delyse. However, knowing my Jen as I did, I truly believe it to be true.
Not surprisingly, Delyse was expert at turning skipjack and grouper fresh out of the sea into delectable dishes. She was like a surgeon gutting and scaling the fish. The time from handing them over to her from Roje’s boat to serving them on platters was just over two hours and that included seasoning and cooking. I’m usually a meat and potatoes man, when it’s not fast food on the run, and I never got into seafood beyond a tuna sandwich or the occasional shrimp cocktail when out with Jen. But the skipjack tuna steak was mouth watering and the grouper had a most unique taste.
The Lounge was nearly filled with patrons standing around the bar and just about every table occupied. Delyse stayed with me the entire evening. Initially we were at a table for six “Don’t you have to work? You’re the owner after all.”
She had such an easy manner about her. Everything flowed, from her movements to the way she spoke. “One of the perks of that position is being able to hand off some of the work so I can enjoy my guests.” She took my arm and blew me away with her electric smile. “I’ve made arrangements to take the night off and just be a patron. I have a special guest tonight.” The extra squeeze of my arm gave me a warm glow.
That was accompanied by a smile and a squeeze of my hand. I really didn’t know how to respond so I just squeezed back. I was pleased that she kept her hand in mine as she lifted her drink and clinked my beer glass. “I am glad you decided to take a charter with Roje, Dan.”
That
one I did have a response for, not eloquent but heart-felt. “Me too. One of the better decisions I’ve made.”
Soon Roje and Ronnie joined us. Roje had a woman in tow who I assumed was Gabi (my detective skills know no international boundaries).
Roje made the introductions. Gabi was about Ronnie’s height but a bit heavier, stockier actually, not overweight by any measure. I got the impression she was serious about conditioning and was a strong woman. She didn’t hesitate to shake and her grip was firm but not overhearing. Some female police officers I’d met in the past made it a point to squeeze hard as if to send a don’t-mess-with-me-just-because-I’m-a-woman message. I found that it actually sent the opposite message. Maybe I put too much emphasis on such things. Oh well. Retired. Don’t really care anymore.
As she held my hand Gabi also held my eyes. “I’m very happy to meet you, Dan. Ronika has told me so much about you and what a good detective you have been in New York. I am interested in becoming a detective here. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take the opportunity to tap into your experience.”
I shot a sideways glance at Ronnie and Roje who were wearing you’re-in-for-it-tonight grins. Gabi was a direct-to-the-point gal which was a good trait to have, to a certain extent. Sometimes subtleties worked better in the detective business. That may be an early lesson this evening if the opportunity presented itself.
“It will be my pleasure, Gabi. I have to say that you probably know what a valuable source of detective experience you have sitting next to you.”
“Who? Roje?” We all laughed. “Seriously, I do know. Ronika has been very generous answering my endless questions.”
We had drinks and casual conversation, mostly from Gabi asking me general questions about the detective life in New York, questions I’m sure she had asked Ronnie but probably just sought validation from a non-girlfriend. Our meals were served and it did seem a bit strange to me that I was consuming a creature that I had liberated from the sea.
The Reggae Rastas drifted in and just started playing. No formal introductions. The Lounge’s patrons all seemed comfortable with them and their music. I was not familiar with reggae beyond the couple of Bob Marley tunes I’d heard on the radio that had made it to New York playlists and I certainly couldn’t name their titles. However I found myself soon foot-tapping to the unusual and infectious beat of the music. I got the feeling that it was easy to lay back and just feel good listening to reggae.
The bass player was tall with typical dreadlocks, typical as far as I was concerned in my vast Rasta experiences. He had a pleasant smile which he flashed as he frequently looked Ronnie’s way. She seemed mesmerized by him which surprised me. I would have expected her to shy away from such attention.
As their first set came to a close, the band’s front man said, “We’ll be taking a short break and we’ll leave you with a special bass riff for a special guest tonight. Ife, it’s all yours.” And with that Ife laid down a perfect rendition of Louis Satterfield’s classic bass riff from Fontella Bass’s Rescue Me.
In my limited musical appreciation experiences I had always focused on the bass, either the bass foundations laid down to back the tunes or the special riffs. This was most likely due to my love of The Beatles and Paul McCartney’s bass work on all the Beatles tunes, especially his masterpiece bass playing on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. However there was one exceptional bass riff I put above all others, namely Louis Satterfield on Fontella Bass’s rendition of Rescue Me. Don’t ask me how I know of Louis Satterfield but if you take time to listen to that tune, and you’re any kind of fan of rock ‘n roll bass, you’ll agree.
I sat stunned. Ife looked right at me as he played. When he finished, Ronnie, Roje, and Delyse stood and applauded looking down at me and smiling. Ife walked to the table and shook hands.
“Ife Barley. How did I do, Mr. Deckler?”
I was initially speechless. Then I managed, “Outstanding. You’re familiar with that riff?”
Ife ‘s eyes widened. “Louis Satterfield and James Jamerson were my idols, best studio bassists ever. In fact many believe Jamie Jamerson was the player on that song but that is not true.”
Ronnie bent down and kissed my cheek. “Welcome to the Flip Flop Lounge, Dan.”
“You put him up to this?” Then to Ife, “That was wonderful. Thank you so much. Please join us and please call me Dan.”
We all had a good laugh. Ife had about fifteen minutes between sets. I asked Ronnie, “How did you know?”
“Seriously? The whole Seventh Precinct knew. You don’t remember you’re air-bass rendition with the juke box at the Swing Shift Bar during your retirement party? I must have spent five dollars in quarters playing Rescue Me for you before you’d had enough beers to get up and strut your stuff. It was quite a show as I recall.”
Sheepishly, and I’m sure I blushed, “Oooh, yeah. I’d kinda forgotten about that. Thanks Ronnie, Ife, I’m touched. That was very cool.” Delyse was squeezing my knee which was the coolest of all. I asked her, “Did you know this was coming?”
“Yes, Ronika told me. I thought it was a wonderful idea.”
To say Ife won me over would be an understatement. He spent each band break at our table with Ronnie. It was clear she adored him and he treated her like she was special. I had never seen her like that. I was beginning to fully understand her. When in New York she held back. It was her defense against the vastness and sometimes invasiveness of the big city. When in Jamaica, she was home and much more at ease and comfortable.
I was beginning to really like Montego Bay, and especially Delyse Deveaux.
~~~
During the Rasta Rascals’ final set a man approached Roje and bent low evidently asking for a private conversation. My cop antenna immediately went up. He clearly was not part of the usual crowd as he was alone and didn’t acknowledge anyone as he walked through the room. He was focused on Roje who seemed to recognize him and not in a good way. It was clear to me this was business and not casual conversation.
Roje whispered something to Gabi and excused himself from the table without introducing the man. They went to the bar and had a discussion. Delyse asked Ronnie if she knew who the man was and what that could be about.
“He looks vaguely familiar but I can’t place him. Gabi? Do you know him?”
“Yes, I know him. He’s one of the Whyte brothers, Gillian Whyte. Petty criminals, a bungled burglary, harmless really, at least in Montego Bay. I’ve heard that they did get into something a bit more serious in Kingston but I can’t remember what it was.”
Delyse asked her, “What do suppose he wants with Roje?”
Gabi shook her head. “I don’t know but I’m betting he’s not interested in a fishing excursion. If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me.”
I respected Gabi for that. It showed she and Roje had boundaries which was good for a young relationship, as long as it didn’t mean hiding anything crucial to the relationship. If she was smart, and that seemed to be the case so far, she would not pry and allow Roje to tell her in his time. And if Roje knew what was good for him, he’d certainly share with his cop-girlfriend at least the gist of his discussion with one of the “petty criminal” Whyte brothers.
Gabi turned to me. “Dan, if I may ask, what do your detective instincts tell you? Anything triggered?”
“I certainly don’t want to overstep here.” I looked to Ronnie and Delyse who both nodded. “Well, before I knew anything about him, the manner in which he approached Roje got my attention.” Gabi was intently listening to me and I realized to her this was a teachable moment. “He went directly to Roje without acknowledging anyone in the lounge or any of us for the intrusion. He kept his discussion with Roje quiet so only Roje could hear and summoned him away from the table. This told me it certainly did not involve a normal business discussion Roje would have with a potential charter client.”
Delyse asked, “But perhaps he just didn’t want to discuss business in front of all of us. Isn’t th
at possible?” Rather than answering, I looked toward Gabi who took the cue.
“If that was the case, and he was merely a client or potential client, he certainly would have asked for the intrusion to be excused and asked Roje if he had a moment to speak privately. That wasn’t the case here. It looked to me more like a demand that Roje join him at the bar and Roje obliged so as not to cause a potential scene.” She looked to me for approval.
“Very good Gabi. I suspect he probably didn’t recognize you from the MBPD or he wouldn’t be approaching Roje in such a suspicious manner if his intentions are indeed shady. However we all have to keep in mind that this may be an innocent discussion between Roje and a socially awkward person.”
“Do you really think that’s the case?”
“No, Gabi, I don’t, especially given what you said about this Whyte brother. I suggest we let Roje tell us, or you, in his time.”
Ronnie nodded and touched Gabi’s arm. “I’ve never known Dan’s instincts to be off, except for his choice in baseball teams.” That broke the ice a bit and we all chuckled and sipped our drinks as we glanced toward the bar. Roje was casually leaning on the bar listening as his companion spoke. He seemed cool and did not indicate his reaction one way or another. Gillian Whyte was doing all the talking and his mannerisms suggested to me he was making Roje an offer in a pleading way.
As we all watched, he went quiet as if waiting for Roje to respond. Roje looked our way, actually directly at Gabi, turned to his companion and shook his head negatively. Gillian clearly did not like that response, said something to Roje, finished his drink and walked out of the lounge without looking toward our table. Roje spoke briefly to the bartender, probably telling him to put Gillian’s drink on our table’s tab, walked our way, and took his seat next to Gabi who touched his arm.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything is okay. I apologize for the intrusion. That was Gillian Whyte. He had a business proposition that I had no interest in. Let’s continue with our evening, shall we?”
