by Paula Lennon
“It all might have been done with,” replied Superintendent Brownlow, “but you set fire to the mongoose tail, man.”
“I’m not following, sir.” Preddy felt the words coming from his lips, but the hoarse voice did not sound like his own. He needed water, but there was no jug on the table.
“You were instructed, by the commissioner no less, not to interfere with Ida Chin Ellis. Yet she says you were seen snooping around her doctor’s office.”
“I see,” said Preddy weakly.
“Why did you go up there, man?”
“I had a theory, sir.”
“About what exactly?” The superintendent stood up, hands folded behind his back. He began walking around the long table, but did not take his eyes from the detective. “Well?”
“It didn’t pan out, sir, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Hmm, well it certainly didn’t pan out for you.” The superintendent paused beside Preddy and looked somewhat deflated. “Why not stay under the radar? From the day of the Norwood raid you have been using up your nine lives like you have a death wish.”
Not the raid again.
“Detective?”
“Sorry, sir? I didn’t hear you.”
Superintendent Brownlow’s words sounded as if they were echoing in a far away place and the detective imagined he must have nodded off and ended up back in one of his nightmares. “Detective Sean Harris has been selected as your replacement. Harris is going to take over the investigation into the murder of Carter Chin Ellis.”
“Harris?” Preddy whispered.
“This is not a demotion,” the superintendent insisted, “only a temporary hiccup to get the case back on track and no-one will be informed that you are being considered for retirement. I deeply regret this outcome, but the commissioner demanded it be done and I could not persuade him otherwise.”
“Super, tell me dis is not true.”
Superintendent Brownlow reclaimed his seat and sat back, shoulders sagging. “I’m really sorry, Ray. Detective Harris has already been told and has accepted his new role. The commissioner says he’s sure that you’ll be able to work under him and take directions so that the case can follow a more... considered approach.”
Preddy listened with clenched fists and wondered whether Harris had done anything to resist the commission at all. What did that sheltered foreigner know about running a murder investigation in Jamaica? The police high command had designated power to white men before and had given up after a few years. It was insulting to the constabulary in general that anyone should be flown in to take over, almost as if August 6th 1962 had never happened.
“So dis is all settled?” he asked, when he could breathe. “And I don’t even get a chance to state my case?”
“Believe me, this is not what I wanted to see happen, but I don’t have any choice in the matter. You have not been removed from the case.”
“Although I guess somebody tried.”
“I don’t know who you mean, Ray. You know that I have always had your back.”
“And when will de rest of my team be told about it, and by whom?”
“They are being told right now, by Detective Harris.”
“You have got to be kidding me?” The weakness in his limbs disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced by a surge of rage. Preddy leaped to his feet and sent the chair crashing behind him. “Without even a conversation wid me first? Without me being present?”
“We thought it was the best way.”
“Well, thank you, sir,” said Preddy sarcastically. “I better go and find out what de rass is going on!”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Detective!” called the superintendent to the detective’s departing frame. “Detective Preddy!”
As Preddy strode along the corridor, he could now imagine a reality in which he was not a detective. The high command would strip him of his position completely, bowing to the pressure of external forces that sought to influence the island’s law enforcement strategies. The parish of St James might be tough to police, but he was doing a thorough job and was well on the way to solving the murder of Carter Chin Ellis. The idea that he would throw in the towel at this stage was one that only a police commissioner, sitting in his New Kingston penthouse, could envision as a satisfactory state of affairs.
Preddy spotted the moving shapes inside the evidence room and turned the door handle which held firm. He banged on the door repeatedly in quick staccatos until he heard the sounds of it being unlocked from the inside.
“Wait, so you are filling in my... sorry, your team already?” said Preddy striding past the Scotsman. Preddy’s face was specked with beads of sweat and his breath came quickly as he spoke.
The room fell still. Spence sat perched on a desk looking sullen, while Rabino stood beside a filing cabinet with a sheaf of papers in her hands looking extremely uncomfortable.
Preddy’s eyes searched their faces before returning to the target of his wrath. “You couldn’t wait? A you a de big man now and all a we going bow to you!”
Harris glared at Preddy. “Dinnae be an asshole!”
“Wha’ de fuck you say to me?” Preddy walked straight up to Harris and stood so close that their noses almost touched.
A secretary froze in the doorway clutching a tray of ice cold lemonade and chocolate biscuits that the superintendent had organised in advance of him delivering the bad news. “Sir?”
“Get out!” barked Preddy. The woman quickly backed out spilling the drinks as she went.
“You too!” Preddy stared at Rabino and Spence. “Leave!”
Spence stared back. “But wait? A who you a talk...”
“Shut up, my girl,” said Rabino quickly. She threw the papers back into the file and slammed the cabinet before grabbing Spence’s arm. “Get your keys. Let’s go follow up on Darnay.”
“But I want...”
Ignoring the objections of her colleague, Rabino strong-armed the irate Spence out and shuddered as Preddy kicked the door shut behind them.
“Yes now, backra,” said Preddy. “Say all wha’ you have to say to me!”
Harris narrowed his eyes. “Well since ye have given me an invitation. There’ll be naw more cannabis smoking around here.”
“What you say?”
“Ye heard me alright. Ye must think I’m blind and have lost ma sense of smell. Every morning there’s more mints flying through the air than there are bloody mosquitoes. Took me a while tae work out why naw one was offering me any.”
In that moment Preddy wanted to hurt Harris. He wanted to squeeze his throat until the green eyes turned smokey grey. “You accusing me of something, you better have proof, backra.”
Less than a foot separated the two men and neither would blink. “Ye smoke marijuana or weed or ganja or hemp, whatever ye want to call it. That’s what I’m accusing ye of.”
Preddy could feel his gun rubbing into his side, reminding him that it was there. “Never in my entire life,” he whispered. “Not a joint, not a spliff, not a cigarette, not a rollup, whatever you want to call it. Never.”
“I know I smelled something.”
“You rass deaf? I said never.”
Harris blinked and looked confused. “Well, in that case, I’m sorry, Detective Preddy. Maybe I was mistaken.”
“Maybe you don’t want to make any more mistakes.”
A mist still clouded Preddy’s brain, but it had thinned enough for him to realise that getting out of the room as quickly as possible was the best move. He continued to stare at Harris as he moved towards the door. “I’m sure you won’t be needing me for anything.”
“I think naw.”
Preddy turned and opened the door.
“And, Detective Preddy, please dinnae call me that again.”
“What?”
“Backra.”
“No, massa.”
*
It was now late evening and the sun had long gone down, although the temperature outside remaine
d decidedly humid. The overhead fans were all on, as was the air conditioning and for once Preddy gave no thought to the electricity bill that would land on his mat. The apartment needed to be as cold as possible to keep his body temperature down. The detective was thankful that he had not disposed of the stress tablets that the doctor prescribed months ago and he took a few to try and soothe his throbbing temples. Unable to face food, he had opted for bottles of cold coconut water, hoping it would settle his stomach and stop the bile encroaching on his throat.
Normally he would be sitting in his study with the door closed, but it had not been a normal day and so he took up a place at the dining table gaining some comfort from seeing his teenagers behaving like teenagers, oblivious to their father’s dark mood. Davis, Brownlow and their red puppet would not be the ruin of his family. If Valerie had been on speaking terms with him he would have called her, but she was not picking up or returning any calls.
When his laptop purred into life, he searched for information on the Chinchillerz empire and wondered whether it was possible that Lester would hire Darnay to harm his brother. Lester wanted money, hence the assault claim from which he clearly expected to profit, yet there was more than enough money and power in that family to go around and their empire was still growing. Lester would always be rich and powerful, whether Carter was dead or alive.
He thought about his own siblings, a brother in London and a sister in Rome. The idea of killing them for any reason was unimaginable to the detective, but he had met murderers and would-be murderers who disclosed reasons for murder that any right-minded person would consider completely illogical. Psychopaths were irrational people and it was clear from the newspapers that there were a good few of them running around unchecked on the island.
Annalee crept up and peered over his shoulder, studying the image of the young Chinese-Jamaican on the screen, whose face, along with that of his younger brother, could not be avoided even if one tried.
“He’s cute, you know, Dad.”
Preddy glanced sideways at his grinning daughter noting the teasing glint in her eye. Annalee was now fourteen and it seemed like only yesterday that he was helping her to ride a tricycle in a straight line. That was ten years ago. Gone were the thick plaits and coloured beads that danced when he threw her up into the air, replaced by the straight relaxed strands caught up in ponytails above each ear. Now the time that he had long dreaded had arrived, the time when she thought older boys, who up to two years ago had been slandered by her as a worthless species, were cute.
“I guess you could call him dat,” he said grudgingly.
“Oh, Dad!” Annalee giggled. “’Bout you guess!”
She put her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm. “What happen to de man who attack him?”
“His trial is many weeks away,” Preddy said, scrolling down the page so that the face disappeared from view. “Anyway, remember dat suspects are innocent until proven guilty.”
“Him did look well guilty to me.”
“You think violent people have a particular look, young lady? Dey don’t, you know.”
“Hmm, maybe not.”
“No matter what dey look like people can do crazy things. Whether dey were born wid de predisposition or developed it because of de environment has never been clear in my mind. Sometimes it is a mixture of both. And sometimes an otherwise normal person just snaps and does something really bad and dat’s it.”
“You’ll never snap, will you, Daddy?”
A vision of red hair above a sunburnt face flashed before his eyes and he swallowed.
“Of course not, Annalee.”
Roman forced his attention away from the movie he was watching on TV. “What did happen wid the milkpowder drugs from Chinchillerz? Dem find out who it belong to yet?”
“Not yet, narcotics are investigating,” he replied wearily. “But on a positive note de little girl who ingested it is doing fine and her doctor does not believe dat she will suffer any adverse effects.”
“Bwoy, some people well careless wid other people life, eeh?” Roman said.
“Very true, my son.”
*
When Zadie arrived at home it was nearly dawn. On the horizon she witnessed the shimmering orange glow of the sun as it slowly emerged from behind the hills. She drew the thin curtains across the window and then peeped through them, her hazel eyes alert to anything out of place. No strange people wandering around, no plain-clothed police officers, nothing except for a few cars going back and forth. It was still too early for most people. The traffic would pick up when normal people started going to work, and she was anything but normal people.
She kicked off her towering shoes and retreated to her spacious bedroom. It had been a long night’s work and she was tired. A mass of discarded dresses strewn across the bed needed to be cleared away and she was not looking forward to the task. It had taken her about an hour to select a suitable outfit to wear to work and even longer to find a pair of shoes, mainly because she had such a wide choice of both. Slowly she began to drag the dresses from the bed, return them to their hangers and replace them in the double wardrobe.
The movements felt mechanical as she did this everyday for five to six days a week. Since Carter had unceremoniously dumped her, there had been less money coming in and she might soon need to work all seven days, until she found someone with cash whom she could publicly declare as her boyfriend. Another arrogant, demanding, rich man to treat her as his personal property and pay for the opportunity to be seen with her.
In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of sweet white wine and gulped it down in one swift movement, closing her eyes and relishing the comforting warmth that coursed through her body. She bent low and peered at the gun through the glass front of the washing machine. The kitchen was not an ideal place to store a weapon, but the wardrobe would be the first place a police officer would look. At least that was where the officers went first in every movie she had ever watched. Those two idiots from Pelican Walk had come for her bracelet. What on earth could they possibly want with a bracelet? Good luck to them, she had plenty of other stunning jewellery.
CHAPTER 28
Friday, 14 August, 10:12 a.m.
Harris marched into the detectives’ open-plan quarters and announced the sighting of Marcus Darnay at his garage in Granville. Preddy’s heart thumped in elation. His gut had told him that the suspect had never left the island, and gone were his misgivings that Darnay might have been murdered by his hirer, and disposed of. Darnay was alive and this time the detective felt sure it was not a false sighting.
Preddy crunched loudly on a mint and writhed in his seat as he watched Harris standing at his desk fiddling with something. Preddy curled his hands and stabbed his nails into his palms. “You might want to go now before he disappears again, Detective Harris,” he finally offered through clenched teeth.
“Aye, and I would like ye tae come with me.” Harris picked up his car keys and held them out towards Preddy.
“Sure,” said Preddy. He leaped up and walked past his new boss, ignoring the outstretched keys.
“Two bulls, one pen,” mumbled Rabino, shaking her head as she watched Harris follow behind Preddy.
“Sir, you need any backup?” called Spence, quickly getting to her feet.
“Yes, dat would...”
“Naw, we can...”
The voices came simultaneously and Spence looked from one man to the other. Preddy held up an apologetic hand towards her. “Sorry, I thought you were talking to me.”
The two men disappeared and Spence sank back into her seat.
“I was,” she whispered.
Harris drove while Preddy sat in the passenger seat, giving directions when necessary. They travelled mainly in uncomfortable silence through the winding streets heading to the outskirts of the city. Their pockets of stilted conversation did not extend beyond whether they would need to take Darnay by force or whether he would come quietly. The detectives determined that th
ey were equipped for the worst of the two eventualities.
The houses became smaller and the unofficial garbage heaps grew more noticeable the further they went, discarded fridges a repeated feature of the landscape. Political slogans were painted in orange or green along the sides of the culverts and were scrawled on signs hanging from trees. Even though it was morning, many working-age young men were leaning up against ramshackle shops waiting for their lives to begin.
The detectives headed closer towards the Granville community. Each time Harris ran into a pothole Preddy wished he had accepted the keys. Jamaican drivers crossed lanes to the wrong side of the road to avoid craters, but not Harris. The jeep was built for these roads, yet the effect was still jolting. Preddy wondered if Harris could not see the holes or if he just could not judge their depth. This was neither the time nor the place to give the foreigner a lecture, but Preddy badly wanted to point out that the JCF could not afford new vehicles. He winced as the bumper narrowly missed a goat which chose the wrong moment to decide that the grass was greener on the other side. There was even less money in the force’s kitty to compensate farmers for their crushed livestock.
Darnay was bent over double attending to a young child at his feet when the black jeep screeched to a halt on his secluded forecourt. As the detectives ran towards him he stood upright, insolently looking Harris up and down.
“So, wha’ de rass you for? You no know say your time done long time?”
“Mr Darnay.” Harris smiled as if greeting a long-lost friend although well-aware he had been insulted. “It’s a pleasure tae finally meet ye.”
Two customers emerged from inside the garage to see what the commotion was about. A mechanic remained inside tinkering with a broken-down vehicle. In a nearby car sat a young woman whom Preddy recognised as Darnay’s common law wife. A woman who days earlier had promised to notify the detectives if she ever saw or heard from their subject of interest.
“Cute baby,” Preddy said, stroking the head of the tiny boy playing with his rattle, a boy who actually looked like Darnay. “Not much of a place for an infant though, Mr Darnay.”
