Murder in Montego Bay

by Paula Lennon

  It took some effort for Preddy not to glance sideways at Harris and he half hoped the detective would answer the question for his own benefit. Harris remained silent, his expression blank while twisting his pen between his fingers.

  Preddy said, “We welcome whatever assistance we can get, Mr Chin Ellis, wherever it is coming from. Now, can you tell us if you and Carter had any trouble on Saturday night, before....”

  “How do you mean? Of course, we had trouble! Your officers were the trouble. They dragged us down here for nothing. Talking about drunkenness and assault and some foolishness.”

  “I was going to say: before you were stopped by de officers. Were you aware of being followed?”

  “Yes, by your guys!”

  Although Lester’s reaction disturbed him, Preddy decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. The recently bereaved could not be second-guessed when it came to their behaviour and who knew what internal pain and suffering the young man was enduring.

  “We really are trying to help you and your family, so if dere is anything you can tell us?” Preddy coaxed him.

  “Anything at all, sir?” added Harris. “We really do want tae catch the killer.”

  “No, I don’t know anything. The only people who seem to have anything against my family are you people. Everybody else knows and loves my family. My family built up Jamaica! You know how many people we employ and train and educate, eeh? You know how many people from foreign want to come do business with us? Everybody wants to come and join us, buy us out or collaborate.” He turned his impassioned face towards Harris. “You’re not going to know, but he can tell you: the Chin Ellis name is king in Jamaica! Everybody knows Chinchillerz!”

  “Aye, I have heard of ye,” said Harris. There was no hint of admiration in his tone. “Slushies and slurpees or something.”

  “Are you for real?”

  Preddy noticed Lester’s eyes narrow and quickly interjected, “What about Carter? Girlfriends, ex-girlfriends?”

  “Carter had plenty of girls. None of them were special to him. All of them thought they were something special though.”

  “Well, if ye could just write down the names of any of them that ye remember that would be a great help.” Harris pushed a notepad and a pen towards him.

  Lester took the pen and began to scribble. Preddy watched as his hand moved across the page. The gold watch he was wearing probably cost a year of a detective’s salary and he could not even guess at the value of the rings.

  “I see you have Zadie Merton. We can’t seem to get hold of her. Your mother seems to think she was Carter’s only girlfriend,” said Preddy.

  “I don’t know about that. Carter talked to a whole heap of girls,” Lester replied. “That one came by the house a few times. Nice enough black chick.”

  “What about male enemies? Did Carter have any arguments wid any men about women or money or anything else?” asked Preddy.

  “Carter barely even argued with me, much less with other people. He was not that type of person. Only that idiot racing driver I ever saw him really argue with, Kirk. The workers loved him. His friends loved him...” Lester’s voice trailed off, seemingly drained.

  “Have you ever seen dis man before?” Preddy placed a photograph on the table.

  “No, never seen him before.”

  “Ye need tae take a good look at him,” pushed Harris.

  “His name is Marcus Darnay,” said Preddy. “He’s a mechanic and we thought he might have worked on Carter’s racing car.”

  “I don’t really know Carter’s mechanics.” Lester leaned over and looked closely. “Wait. I believe I saw this man’s picture in the paper one time. He got jail time for dealing drugs or something.”

  “We found some drugs in ye car. A whole lot of drugs in fact, approximately two pounds of cocaine. What can ye tell us about it?” asked Harris.

  “What drugs? Any drugs in my car, you put them there! I don’t know anything about any drugs!” Lester’s voice rose. “So now you put drugs in my car and you’re going to say that we upset a drug dealer and he killed Carter? Or what, that Carter was a drug dealer and ripped his customer off?”

  “Calm down, sir,” said Harris. “Naw officer put any drugs in yer car.”

  Lester rounded on the Scotsman. “I know how things work out here, even if you don’t know! You just came from foreign and maybe this is not how things go in your country.”

  “Even if ye personally didnae know about the drugs, do ye think they could have belonged tae Carter?”

  “You know what? I’m done talking. My lawyer will talk to you.” Lester got to his feet. “You better be careful you don’t slander my family name, because that’s a big, big thing!”

  “We will be in touch, I’m sure,” said Harris politely. “Sorry for yer loss.”

  Preddy stood and opened the door, moving to the side to allow smooth passage for his departing visitor. Lester did not fit the mould of any cocaine kingpin he had ever come across, and he had come across a few. Hardened criminals were known to be moving the drug in and out of the country, mainly via small fishing vessels and yachts, although some had taken to disguising the goods in shipping containers sent on cargo freighters. Besides, a couple pounds did not prove that he or Carter had a budding empire.

  “We thank you for coming, Mr Chin Ellis.”

  Preddy watched as the interviewee checked the time on his expensive arm piece, holding it aloft for an unnecessary amount of time before striding out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.

  “He’s naw a very nice chappie, is he, sir?” Harris remarked once the door was firmly closed.

  “I wouldn’t want to drink wid him, but people react differently to grief. Some cry, some get mad or defensive and others show little reaction.” Preddy studied Harris’ expression and wondered if the slight against Chinchillerz was deliberate or whether Harris had read nothing about the products manufactured by the company. The foreigner’s green eyes gave nothing away.

  “What did ye make of his reaction tae the mention of drugs?”

  “Difficult to say. He seemed genuinely surprised, but people lie all de time,” Preddy replied. “We going need to tread carefully fi true. Dat family has a lot of money and can afford to keep people quiet.”

  “Money can buy ye a lot of things, but it cannae buy ye humility that’s for sure.”

  “Too true,” Preddy nodded. “You get anything from ballistics?”

  “Aye, sir. The bullets are forty calibre, so I guess we’re looking for a semi-automatic pistol. I understand they’re now quite common?”

  “Unfortunately, you’re right.” Preddy inhaled deeply. “I better go brief de Super before him come looking for me.”

  “Do ye need any help with the briefing, sir?”

  Preddy stared at him. The question sounded innocent enough, yet he wondered what sort of double act Harris envisioned. “Sort of like Ity and Fancy Cat?”

  Harris frowned. “I’m naw following ye, sir?”

  “Dat you are not. See you later.”

  *

  “None of dese women have called to ask about Carter’s case?” asked Preddy, standing alongside Rabino’s desk.

  “Not one of them,” replied Rabino, running her eyes down Lester’s list. “I checked the names with the victim’s mother and the only one she recognises is Zadie’s. She is adamant that Carter did not have another serious girlfriend to her knowledge and Carter was with Zadie for around a year.”

  “Yet he turned her photograph face down,” said Preddy thoughtfully. “And for some reason Lester doesn’t believe Carter was dat serious about her.”

  Spence looked up from her paperwork and grinned at her boss. “Well, I know some men like to pretend and gwaan a way when dem like a girl and don’t want dem friend to know. How is Valerie by de way, sir?”

  Preddy smiled and averted his gaze. “She is fine. Try and talk to de girlfriend, I don’t understand why she’s not returning any calls. Tell her if she d
oes not talk to us we will put her face on TV and in de newspaper.”

  “Speaking of which, did you see today’s paper?”

  Rabino held it up and Preddy looked at the large picture of Pelican Walk station, next to a photo of the minister for national security. The detective speedread the story. As expected the point scoring had begun, with rival politicians having a field day at the expense of the grieving family. The opposition party lay all the blame for the constabulary’s current embarrassment squarely at the feet of the ruling party. The ruling party claimed that they inherited a service which had now, in the main, been transformed and met most of its targets including gaining the respect and co-operation of the public. The national security minister stuck to the party position that the Lester Chin Ellis incident was a one-off and vowed to get to the truth of the matter swiftly and publicly.

  In a related story immediately below was the photograph of a distraught woman waving a piece of paper—a missing persons report. She was the mother of one of Lester’s inmates. The names of the three inmates under suspicion had recently been announced sparking claims of injustice and a cover-up. The irate mother said her son was a schizophrenic and she had searched for him for days, asking for him at every station in the area, including the very lock-up in which he was held. Her son was at Pelican Walk all along. The police response was that the man had given them multiple names when asked to identify himself, including proclaiming himself to be Haile Selassie, and he had no identification on his person.

  Yet, thought Preddy in frustration, the officers had not allowed the woman to take a look at any of the detainees nor shown her photographs of any of them. It was beyond him why some officers could not follow simple procedures, but this was something that would have to change.

  CHAPTER 9

  Wednesday 22 July 7:20 p.m.

  Zadie Merton balanced the supermarket basket on her hip and fumbled for her phone in her bottomless pit of a designer handbag. More missed calls. The number was unidentified, yet she knew exactly who it was. If they kept on at this rate the phone’s memory would be filled up with voicemail messages and unable to hold the ones that she really wanted to listen to. Damn police. She had nothing to give them. They hadn’t been too concerned with speaking to her before when she wanted to report threats or assaults, and now they were suddenly keen to discuss the death of Carter. If she were dead would they be so quick to start harassing him?

  She had less than two hours to food shop, get home and get changed for work. She pursued her mission through the wide overflowing aisles, picking up bottles of wine and vodka without looking at the prices and throwing in a few bags of banana chips and chocolate bars. Being able to eat and drink whatever she liked was a blessing. No matter how high the calories or how unhealthy the food, it never affected her enviable shape. Friends teased her that being nineteen and quite active she could get away with it, but in a few years it would all go downhill. Soon she would have cellulite and overhanging belly skin like everybody else, they warned. Zadie had confidently proclaimed that it would not be so. Her own mother was similarly built and even after having four children could still get away with wearing clothes marked small or petite.

  Carter had asked her to go to the gym with him, choosing an elite local gym where business professionals worked out and where he could stock overpriced Chinchillerz natural smoothies. She hated going to the gym and would never understand how people, particularly women, could enjoy running on treadmills and lifting weights for hours, perspiring and breathing heavily. She had forced herself to face it three days a week lifting the lightest weights possible when she realised that it pleased Carter to see other men and women follow her movements.

  She was well-aware that men found her particularly appealing because of her buxom figure with a tiny waist and broad hips that she accentuated by wearing heels as high as possible. Her straightened copper-toned hair fluttered around her shoulders, held back today by a thin hair band. She had quickly learned what effect she had on men, as even one or two male teachers at her high school had tried it on with her, subtlety not being their main subject. It was one of the reasons why she had decided to abandon school before graduating and to date she had no regrets. All those earnest girls with a long list of subjects on their framed certificates and still no meaningful jobs. Even those who managed to make it to university would be lucky to get anything better than a mediocre call centre job or a basic admin position. As she took out her wallet and reached for cash she glanced at the uniformed cashier who smiled brightly back at her. She wondered what education this middle-aged woman had and how she made ends meet with a supermarket job.

  Like most people on the island, Zadie had watched the extensive news reports of Carter’s murder. It felt like an out of body experience for her, watching the cameras zoom in on a road that she had driven on and a house that she had slept in. She even recognised some of the neighbours standing around idly surveying the scene. As the whole thing seemed so surreal to her, she could not imagine how it must feel for Carter’s family.

  Phoning his grieving parents was always at the back of her mind, but she resisted the temptation, afraid she might say something she shouldn’t. As far as the parents knew, she and Carter had been a happy couple until the end and there was no reason for them to be told otherwise. She had seen his parents on TV talking about how wonderful their son was and she expected them to say nothing less. Terence was quiet but seemed nice, and although she had only met him a few times he always made her feel welcome. Miss Ida, she was not quite so sure about. It was clear to Zadie that to this no-nonsense lady her boys were in a class of their own and any women dating either of them should count themselves very lucky. She still remembered how Miss Ida had refused to believe her when she complained that Carter had slapped her across the face. Not her son, she had said, and Carter of course had denied it. Lester had been a bit off at first, but he turned out to be a good listener, quite a nice guy really.

  Zadie picked up her bag of groceries and said goodbye to the cashier. Sometimes bad things happened to good people and sometimes bad things happened to bad people who pretended to be good. As her great-granny used to say, “If a man put him hand on you make sure him can’t use dat hand again.” Zadie smiled to herself. Gran-gran always knew best.

  She placed her shopping bags in the backseat of a taxi and climbed in. Once she had made herself comfortable, she took out her phone. The smile disappeared from her lips as she listened to Detective Rabino’s message in stunned silence. Put her photograph on government TV for the whole nation to see? How dare they even suggest such a thing? Her hands shook as she punched in the detective’s number and waited. She was not going to attend any interview and they needed to leave her alone.

  *

  It was approaching 8 o’clock and Detective Preddy was nearly ready to go out for his date. He had rarely taken his wife out on dates during his marriage, which he regretted. As he stood in the modest Ironshore apartment purchased three years ago, after his divorce, he was determined to get it right this time. It was a comfortable place with an open-plan kitchen-dining area, a study room that doubled as a private office, a balcony, two sizeable bedrooms and a second bathroom. The second bathroom was non-negotiable when it came to buying a property, being particularly necessary for when the kids came to stay. He had visions of what teenagers could do in the room unchecked and he fully intended that they would clean up after themselves. Annalee had recently discovered make-up and he had no wish to be cleaning up multi-coloured products from the tiled walls and floors.

  When he was young, there was only one bathroom in the ancestral home in Darliston and his mother took great pride in keeping it spotless. In fact, he could recall being told that they were one of the first people in the little district to have a properly plumbed and fully-functioning bathroom inside the house. The neighbours’ bathroom consisted of a small out-house with a huge steel bathpan and a hose fed in through the window leading from a standpipe in the yard. Whenev
er the pipe ran dry the children would collect water from a well half a mile away and sometimes he would go with them, enjoying the challenging rocky route. The neighbours also had a pit latrine with no basin. Instead a blue plastic keg caught rainwater and a cheese pan was used to scoop water for washing hands. His parents still lived in the family home and he phoned as often as he could, although he rarely completed the fifty mile round trip because of work pressures. A visit was long overdue and he needed to take the children with him.

  Preddy closed the bathroom door and padded his way barefoot to the walk-in closet in his bedroom. He retrieved a short-sleeved, pale blue cotton shirt noting that it was roomy around the middle and hadn’t hung so loose a few months ago. A navy blue pair of slacks added to his attire and his smart-casual look was finished off with a pair of canvas slip-on shoes. He eyed the grey sneakers that stood ready and waiting to go on a morning jog and realised they were likely to be forsaken in the days ahead. Nothing beat working up a sweat before the sun had risen and before the traffic was out polluting the clean air, and he enjoyed the challenge of racing against the clock feeling the rush of adrenalin that came with it. He could run in peace for miles around the relatively quiet streets of his middle-class neighbourhood which was home to hundreds of expatriates and business people. Still, work came first and if something had to give, it would be the early morning jogs.

  Preddy lightly patted a strong-smelling cologne on his chin. Come what may, he was going to find time to see Valerie and have a proper relationship. His body moved involuntarily as he thought about Valerie. They first met many years ago in the days when they worked together in the government forensic laboratory, where he began his career in crime management as a lab technician. Both were married to other people then, but there was a clear attraction from the start. She was funny and witty with a dimpled smile and a throaty laugh. They were colleagues, just good friends with easy banter passing between them, although both had known that there was much more to it. Eventually he had joined the JCF, as although he enjoyed analysing evidence, he wanted to be in the thick of things and the two stayed in contact over the years.