by Paula Lennon
“What has de atmosphere been like since den?” asked Preddy.
“That is the thing. There was no real atmosphere as such, even on that day. Lester has always been like that. He can blow up and then switch back to being the most normal person in the space of five minutes. If I hadn’t seen the altercation myself I wouldn’t have believed one took place. For all I know they told Lester that he was mistaken. He and Carter were having lunch together in the canteen later the same day and playing video games.”
“You did ask Miss Ida what happened?” asked Spence.
Fisalam nodded. “I did. She said ‘nothing.’ She hasn’t even told me why Carter was breathing over my shoulder night and day. That lady keeps everything within the family. I wouldn’t even bother to ask Terence about it, because if Ida’s not talking, Terence will not talk either.”
“So, do you think Lester could ever be mad enough to hurt Carter?” asked Preddy.
Fisalam shook his head vigorously. “Lester really loved Carter and Carter loved him too, Detective. That’s why even though the memory of the altercation crossed my mind I didn’t plan to mention it.”
“Lester has a very good alibi anyway,” said Preddy.
Fisalam nodded. “Yes, I understand that he was in jail at the time.” He hesitated a split second before feeling brave enough to add, “Being assaulted.”
Preddy decided to ignore the last bit. “Well, thank you for telling us. We prefer to follow all leads no matter how unlikely, and den discard dem as we go along.”
“Dis might sound like a strange question, but does Lester have any money troubles?” asked Spence.
The finance man gave a hollow laugh. “Well, he doesn’t have access to as much of the money as he would like, if that is what you mean. At one time he used to spend money like water, until Miss Ida put a stop to it. He gets a very good salary though, acting more like a product development manager, although he tries to get involved in everything.”
“So he does have plenty of money?” she pressed. “His lawyer seems to be following up quite closely on a personal injury claim. Like he needs de money.”
“Lester cannot get his hands on what he calls ‘petty cash’ anymore,” said Fisalam. “His idea of petty cash is not mine by the way. He has come to me before looking for money to buy a flat screen TV for his office when the one he has was only a year old. Two days later he was back wanting money to buy rims for his car. The car was new and didn’t need any dressing up—or pimping as they now call it.”
Spence said, “I guess him have an expensive lifestyle and image to maintain.”
Fisalam nodded. “Quite so. Still, he didn’t do anything to hurt his brother, Detective. You are looking at the wrong man.” He stood and brushed off the seat of his trousers. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to get into Scotia before the line stretches around the corner. They are so slow in that place.”
Spence and Preddy rose in unison. “We’ll have to continue our investigations. Thank you so much for your co-operation, Arroun,” said Spence with another wide smile.
Preddy shook his hand. “Please call us if you think of anything else.”
Preddy drove back to Pelican Walk deep in thought. Spence glanced across at her boss, noting his studious expression.
“So what do you make of Mr Fisalam?” she asked.
“He’s a strange one. He clearly loves de family, but I sense he has some distrust for each of dem,” explained Preddy. “For all we know Fisalam himself is involved. He did say Carter was always over his shoulder.”
“I going look into him background, sir.”
“Good idea.”
“You going tell Super what him say?”
“No way,” Preddy replied firmly. “If Super even thinks anybody is sniffing around Lester he will shut us down. He is in awe of dat family.”
“So we just going leave it so?” asked Spence.
“What we really need to do is find dat shit, Marcus Darnay,” said Preddy, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m pretty sure he can answer a lot of important questions.” He glanced at her, taking his eyes of the road momentarily. “What are you doing dis afternoon?”
“Dat Zadie Merton leave a nasty message on Rabino phone, say she have nothing to talk to us ’bout,” said Spence. “We going pay her a visit, try convince her to come in.”
Preddy smiled. “You are a real charmer when you want to be. If anybody can convince her to talk, you can.”
Spence grinned. “I do my best, sir.”
“You know, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to use some of dat charm on Detective Harris?”
“I going use something on him if him don’t stop spray de damn place wid mosquito repellent,” she laughed. “I will work wid him, sir, but I don’t trust him and I don’t want to be him friend.”
“I hear you.”
“Seriously, sir, him need him own office. You can’t lend him yours?”
“What? And I move into de open-plan? No way.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“I didn’t mean it like dat,” said Preddy quickly. “If I give him my office I might as well give him my job.”
“Fine.” Her tone was surly. “Well, when him done poison we you will no have no team anyway.”
Preddy frowned. “Look, I will talk to him if it’s dat bad. I hadn’t realised.”
Spence chuckled and Preddy finally broke into a relieved grin. “You had me worried dere for a minute.”
“I’m not saying don’t worry ’bout him though, sir.”
“How you mean?”
She shook her head. “Me and him working together and half de time me can’t find him. Something is not right wid dat man and is not mosquito make him jumpy so.”
*
Rabino and Spence walked into the dark dingy bar, cringing as annoyingly bad pop music assaulted their eardrums. As their eyes grew used to the poor light they surveyed the badly decorated surroundings, red-painted walls, red carpet used to disguise a multitude of sins and chipped wooden stools that had seen better days. The scratched wooden bar top looked sticky as if it hadn’t been wiped down all day and the detectives made sure not to stand too close to it. Sienna’s Gentlemen’s Club was a dive. The only thing that did look in relatively good condition was the wide stage with two steel poles secured firmly in the middle. The scantily-clad girls that writhed away on them were the bait that attracted wealthy men to this hole.
“Can you imagine working in a place like this?” Rabino asked, screwing up her nose.
“No, but sometimes in dat damn hot office I feel like take off all me clothes!” said Spence. “Girl, you shoulda see inside a Chinchillerz. You woulda grudgeful gone to bed!”
Rabino smiled in the darkness, moving the overhead tassels dangling near her head. Her eyes skimmed over the faces of the predominantly male clientele. She assumed that the few females present were friends of the dancers.
On stage, performers worked the poles in G-strings and tiny bras that covered nothing. The men sat as close to the stage as possible, admiring the lithe bodies, until they noticed the detectives and gradually started moving into the darkest enclaves.
“You think dem see we?” asked Spence with faux innocence.
“It’s the jeans that did it. We are way too overdressed for this place. Spotted in ten seconds.”
A man who Rabino assumed was the owner sauntered over to them. “Ladies, what me do? You going drive away all me customers dem.”
“We are not on duty and your customers have nothing to fear unless they are engaged in illegal activities,” said Rabino politely. “We just came to have a drink and maybe talk to Zadie.”
“Zadie? You mean Celeste? What she do?”
“Is just a chat we want. If she deh here we’ll talk to her and leave. If not, maybe we’ll just hang around until she come,” said Spence.
“Wait deh,” said the man in annoyance and disappeared behind the stage.
Spence eyed the baying punters with distaste.
“Dese man come in like de two worthless puss at me yard. You know, like when you pick up a can of bully beef and dem see? You don’t even need take off de opener.”
Rabino grinned. Spence was forever moaning about the cats that her girls had brought home as kittens and whose presence she was apparently forced to tolerate. Strange then that she had given them nice names and bought them hair brushes. They probably slept purring on her bed.
A furious Zadie tottered over on her high heels, her face overdone in vivid lilac eyeshadow, red rouge and pink lipstick. She wore a long blonde wig that stretched to her waist, tiny silver shorts and an even tinier bra. On anyone else this get-up might have looked ridiculous, but Zadie was a stunning girl who could carry off anything with little effort. She reminded Spence of Lil’ Kim before all the bad surgery.
“You going make dem fire me! What you want?”
“We want you to come into de station and talk to us,” said Spence. “You think is lap dance we want?”
“Ask what you want ask. Me no know nothing ’bout dat damn man,” Zadie raged. “Him dash me weh. Me no know nothing ’bout him!”
“Miss Merton,” said Spence, looking stonily at Zadie. “Dis is not a good environment for a chat. Believe me your boss would not appreciate it and neither would ours.”
“Me can’t come a no police station. You no see me a work?”
“After work is fine,” said Spence. “What ’bout first thing in de morning? Just ring me when you’re on de way.”
“You going arrest me for something, Officer?” Zadie asked, shaking back her blonde mane.
“Why? You think we should?” asked Rabino, taking in Zadie’s outfit from top to toe. “If so, you might want to bring your lawyer with you and change your clothes.”
Zadie stared back at Rabino. “You think you better dan me because you can speak so? Is not your hair pon your head neither! No look pon me so! You not better dan me!”
Rabino moved closer to Zadie and leaned towards her triple-pierced ear. “Me way, way, better dan you, gyal,” she whispered. Zadie took a step back, her mouth open and questioning although she did not utter a word.
Spence waived away a barmaid who was lingering nearby. “Thanks, but we not staying,” she said. “You have our numbers, Zadie... sorry, Celeste.”
“See you tomorrow, Celeste,” said Rabino. “Remember, wear something decent. No batty riders.”
Zadie instinctively covered the name badge sewn onto her shorts, and muttered obscenities as she stared at the disappearing women. How dare these two flat-footed bitches come into her workplace and accost her like this?
“Your mouth need wash out, Celeste!” Spence threw over her shoulder and stepped out into the welcome sunlight.
“Celeste!” shouted a patron. “Come wine fi we no?”
“Make haste, girl!” said another man leering at her over his beer. “Me a pay good money fi see what you can do!”
Zadie forced a limp smile to her lips and looked at her eager audience. In the background she could see her newest most generous client, the man who visited her at home recently and liked the massage oils. She acknowledged him with a brief nod and took to the stage.
*
Ida Chin Ellis did not take the information well when the private detective reported his initial findings. She could not believe that a girl that Carter had brought to the family home on more than one occasion was a common stripper and sometimes escort. Her son had introduced Zadie as a customer relations officer who worked at the convention centre and she believed him.
Now she learned that sometimes the girl spent all day and night writhing onstage in next to nothing, with drunken unfaithful men sticking dirty money into her underwear. On other days the girl gave one-to-one massages and to complete strangers too, though how Zadie could bear to touch the weasly private detective was beyond Ida.
Where had Carter learned to appreciate a woman like this? Ida had always worshipped education and hard work and was a role model for her sons. Her first thought when she heard of Zadie’s true occupation was that the deceitful woman had misled her innocent son, but the more she thought about it the more she realised it was not so. It would appear that Carter had not always been as honest with her as she had believed. Nothing got past Carter and it pained her to realise that he had any association with a woman who was bound to mix with the countless undesirables and lowlifes that the city had to offer.
Even more painful for Ida was the knowledge that Lester must also have been aware of the situation because the brothers knew everything about each other. She fully intended to raise the matter with him when he arrived for the weekend. If only he had told her what was going on, maybe her youngest son would still be here today.
*
The restaurant chosen by Valerie was one of her favourites. With its high ceilings, spacious semi-dark interior and expert chefs, The Flamingo was popular with many locals, and Preddy had been looking forward to the dinner all day.
“What’s de matter?” he asked, concerned by Valerie’s silence.
“Nothing. Me not so hungry dat’s all,” she murmured. Her attention stayed on a small potted plant in the middle of the table, and she poked at its leaves.
Preddy ran his eyes over her, admiring her cream-coloured maxi dress. “Watching your waistline is unnecessary, it is spectacular you know.”
She grinned and prodded him under the table with her toes.
“You drinking more wine?” He held up the bottle.
Valerie drained her glass and held it out. “Sure, why not?”
Preddy studied her for a moment before topping up her glass and beckoning to the hovering waiter. It was not like Valerie to down glasses of white wine like that before she had even seen the starters. When the spicy chicken wings appeared, she barely glanced at them. He was sure that the arrival of the main meal would cheer her up and what a meal it was too; whole red snapper cooked in okra with sweet potatoes and her favourite coconut infused rice and peas. The detective waited until the waiter departed before reaching across and stroking his girlfriend’s hand.
“Come on, I know you. Talk to me, no.”
Valerie sighed. “It’s nothing. Just life really. I am so tired of travelling back home on de weekend to my family, but I know Norman will never allow me to move David to Montego Bay.”
“You ask him?”
“You crazy? I just got around to asking him about de divorce which went down pretty badly, although he did agree in de end.”
“Maybe you could move out of de house, but stay in Kingston wid David for a while. Eventually your husband will get used to you both not being dere.”
“Hmm, maybe.” She fell silent again and used her fork to play around in the snapper.
Preddy decided to broach a subject that had been concerning him for some time. “You are still close to Norman, aren’t you?”
“How you mean?”
“You still keep his photo,” Preddy said carefully. “I noticed it on your desk in de lab.”
Valerie shrugged. “It has always been dere. I’ve just never removed it. And anyway, if my son comes to de lab it helps him feel comfortable.”
“And how do de razors help him?”
“What razors?” The fork froze on the snapper’s head.
“De ones in your bathroom closet,” he said. “I noticed dem de other night.”
Valerie put down her utensils, her eyes boring into him. “You tell me, Detective, what about de razors in my yard?”
“He’s not shaving yet is he?” God, he wished he was better at things like this. “I was just wondering, dat’s all.”
“You know, for someone who has to interview people for a living you take a mighty long time to get to de point. Well, Detective?”
Her voice was icy. She tilted back her head and threw the whole glass of wine down her throat. “I guess it never crossed your mind dat dey might have been put dere for you? You’re supposed to have a keen eye for detail. Surely you recognised dem as
de same brand you use?”
The detective felt his stomach twist and he cursed himself for his foolish thoughts. She was right, he did once have a packet of razors just like it in his own bathroom, although he had recently changed brands. He wanted the floor to swallow him up, but it wouldn’t oblige so he made a grab for his own wine glass instead. He wished he could think of something calming and funny, but in his hour of need his wit deserted him. “I didn’t think.”
“You mean you overthought?” The question remained unanswered. “I noticed you were running out de other day, and I bought dem for you,” she said quietly, her shoulders slumping as if exhausted. “If you had asked I would have told you to take dem wid you. I just forgot.”
“I’m sorry.” Preddy discovered a sudden interest in the décor of the room and moved his eyes all around it.
Valerie said nothing for a while as she watched him. “Tell me, who is it you think I’m sleeping wid, my husband or some other man?”
“You were right, I did too much thinking,” It sounded lame, but at least he was agreeing with her and she couldn’t be too mad about that. “My mind is all messed up, you know?”
“I’m really tired, Ray.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “We can do dis another time, or not.”
“Valerie, please wait!”
She dabbed her lips with a napkin and threw it on the table, picked up her purse and disappeared through the throng of diners.
CHAPTER 25
Wednesday, 12 August, 2:10 p.m.
Zadie Merton left Pelican Walk still fuming that the detectives had forced her to come. How dare they waste her precious time with questions about that man? To be honest, it had not entirely been a waste of her time. She revelled in the admiring gazes from the drooling officers who watched her as she left, some of whom she recognised from their off-duty trips to the strip club. The females were obviously jealous of her fine shape and good looks while the males wished they could get her phone number and squire her around the town.
Zadie had made a point of dressing inappropriately in a tight silver minidress revealing a bold imprint of her thong, four-inch stiletto heels and expensive jewellery around her neck, arms and ankles. With their bad clothes, basic salaries and government benefits, the women could not compete with her, although Spence and Rabino seemed to think they were a cut above. Having licensed weapons simply gave them more leverage and could hardly make them attractive to any men.
