Montego Bay

by Fred Galvin

  “Good.” I turned to Roje. “I hope you don’t mind my asking a few questions to get to know you a little better. That door also swings both ways.”

  “Of course not.” Then he winked at me and Ronnie. “After all, I’m guessing we’re going to see a great deal more of you beyond this little charter you booked. You have had quite an impact on our mother and we have been advised that you two are to be left alone for an intimate dining evening tonight.” His gaze at me also carried the unmistakable message that I needed to remember the discussion we had in el baño my first night. My return gaze carried the message that I had not forgotten and never would.

  “That’s a fair assumption. So, tell me, after the tragic death of your father, how long did it take you to make a viable go of it with the charter business? I imagine it must have been very hard on you and your mother.”

  “It was. He was taken from us so suddenly. Ronika had her career in New York. She came down for the funeral and wanted to stay and help but we insisted she return.”

  I looked at Ronnie. “Was that the time …”

  “Yes, Dan. That was the time I took some vacation leave and didn’t tell anyone where I was going and for how long. I realize now that was selfish of me and I’m sorry. But, well, you know how I am.”

  “Yes, I sure do. I could have comforted you. You did so much for me when Jen died.”

  “I know, but New York was my escape. When I was there working with you I could bury myself in my work. Roje and Mama would not hear of my coming down here and cutting my career short.”

  We sat quietly for a moment. Roje finally put his hand on my arm. “Dan, we have a favor to ask you.”

  I had no idea what was coming. “Shoot.”

  He looked at Ronnie and she nodded. “Our mother does not know of the incident on the boat with Finacci. She believes we decided the best thing for Ronika was to get her away from New York and the temptations that she faced there that fueled her addiction. We would like to keep it that way.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, that is a private family matter. If she ever asks me any questions, I will support your stance. To a certain extent, it’s very valid.” To myself I added, and thus, I wouldn’t have to lie.

  Ronnie said, “Thank you.”

  “Yes, thank you. So, back to your question, after my father passed, it took me a while to stabilize the business. He was a popular man and knew how to source clients. I had to cycle through employees and understand the finances. My mother helped with that side of it too.”

  “Do you live alone or …”

  “Yes I do and no, Gabi does not live with me. We’d like to live together but that could make it awkward because of her job. We connected when she had to arrest a rowdy pair in the Lounge. I was impressed by how she handled herself. I wouldn’t want to be on her wrong side.”

  “Tell me a bit more about her case.”

  “It was kind of funny really. Ronnie tells the story best.”

  “Okay. Gabi was assisting with the investigation of a body found on a beach. How’s that for déjà vu? Anyway, it turned out to be a local man who was killed by his wife for having an affair with a young tourist woman. The wife had an alibi of sorts. She was seen at the Flip Flop Lounge having claimed she couldn’t sleep. That woman turned out to be her twin sister who happened to live in Kingston. The sister covered for the wife while she killed her husband. The sister got drunk in the Lounge, said a bit too much, and Gabi got suspicious. She interrogated her, brought in the sister-wife, and they both ended up confessing.”

  Roje was into the story now. “I’ll take over. One night the husband was supposed to be out with his brother and the suspicious wife followed him. She hid close enough to hear him and the girlfriend talking and heard him say to the girlfriend something along the lines of, ‘Don’t worry. If she ever finds out about us, she’ll cave and forgive me. I can wrap her around my finger.’ So the next night, she surprised him on the beach as he waited again for the girlfriend. She confronted him with a gun and the idiot called her bluff and sweet talked her. She feigned giving in. When they hugged, she whispered in his ear, ‘Wrap THIS around your finger’ as she shot him point-blank.”

  Ronnie was smiling broadly. “The best part was where she shot him!”

  I thought for a second, then cringed. “No, she didn’t!”

  “Roje was cringing with me. “Oh yes, she did. The shot didn’t kill him. She let him suffer while he begged her to finish him off. Finally she obliged.”

  “Hell hath no fury …”

  On her way up the stairs to the deck, Ronnie turned and said, “And before you ask, no, Ife and I do not live together either. He’s fun and we enjoy each other’s company but I haven’t reached that point yet. Maybe someday. We’re in no hurry.”

  Due to my instincts, I wanted to find out a little more about the conversation Roje had had with Gillian Whyte the previous evening but thought better of it.

  Roje drained his beer, let out an impressive belch, and headed up the stairs after Ronnie. “Come on. There are more fish waiting to be caught out there.”

  We cruised the reef for a couple more hours I managed one more catch, an NYU sweatshirt, of all things! It didn’t put up much of a battle. I decided to keep it and hang it up as a trophy catch, maybe a picture of it hanging from a scale and me, smiling proudly, standing next to it with my fishing rod.

  I’m not well.

  But I am comfortable in my skin.

  Come to think of it, I’d be very uncomfortable outside my skin.

  I guess we should move on.

  Chapter 17: Seagrape Terrace

  When I returned to my room late that afternoon, there was an envelope waiting for me on the small table next to the bed. It was addressed simply to “Dan” and I eagerly opened it not knowing whether I should expect joy or dread. It was joy.

  Dan, I hope you had a nice relaxing day with Ronika and Roje on the Sea Nymph. I look forward to preparing your catches for our consumption. However that will have to wait as I have a special evening planned for us. I will pick you up at 7:30 this evening at the Flip Flop Lounge. Dress casual but neat and be sure to bring an appetite for food and…

  -D

  She said, “… bring an appetite for food and…”??

  In the Seventh Precinct in New York we’d say Let’s grab a coffee and... In cop-speak, “coffee-and…” meant coffee and a bagel, a Danish, a donut or just something to munch on, whatever your preference.

  But this beautiful witch, when she left the “and…” dangling out there on her note, I was pretty sure it didn’t mean pastry. It was more like the Sirens’ song that Odysseus had to resist to avoid the fate of so many sailors before him, namely an unavoidable shipwreck. Was I heading for a metaphorical shipwreck? Somehow I doubted it. Maybe a metaphorical tropical paradise? No matter, I was prepared to unfurl my sails to their fullest capacity and sail on into to this siren’s spell.

  I made a mental note to tell Ronnie that her list of five essential things about Jamaican women was incomplete. I believe a sixth should be appended, Jamaican women revel in The Tease.

  I showered and relaxed as best I could. I wanted to have as much serenity and energy for the evening as my old self could muster. By seven-twenty I was standing in front of the Lounge with a couple of beautiful flowers I had found (they’re everywhere) like a school boy waiting for a blind date.

  Delyse actually broke Ronnie’s fifth Jamaican Women Rule, that they run on “Jamaican time” which is merely relative to actual time. At precisely seven-thirty the Jeep pulled up to the Lounge. The Siren behind the wheel smiled and looked at me with the deepest jet black eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to be both flaming and deep coals at the same time.

  She looked me up and down and evidently liked what she saw because she nodded her locks toward the passenger door. “Get in.” I obeyed. My ship was heading for the rocks.

  “Here, these are for you.” Yep, schoolboy. Awkward stupid schoolboy. A lamb fo
r the slaughter. So, I thought, slaughter me. She accepted them, pulled me toward her and planted those red lips on mine. I entered whatever Jamaica’s version of the Twilight Zone was. The Siren’s song had pulled me in. Down, down, down I swirled.

  “Did you have a good day with the rod and the reel?”

  “I hooked a sweatshirt.”

  ~~~

  The Half Moon Resort was located on Montego Bay’s coast not far from the airport. It had 400 spectacular acres and at least a mile of the most breathtaking beachfront I had ever seen. Space and tranquility were plentiful as were private bungalows on the beach. The Seagrape Terrace was the Half Moon’s open air restaurant featuring ocean views and gentle breezes.

  The tables were spaced perfectly to provide intimacy and comfort. A piano player played soft jazz. Our table, with a “Reserved: Deveaux” sign on it, was next to a sea wall that looked out over the beach to a gazebo at the end of a small stone walkway that went about 100 feet out. A small intimate wedding was just concluding in the gazebo.

  Delyse seemed to be acquainted with our waiter, Bart. “Good evening, Mrs. Deveaux. It has been much too long. Welcome back to The Seagrape Terrace.”

  “Hello again, Bart. Yes, it has been a long time and it’s good to see you too. This is Mr. Dan Deckler. He is a very special friend visiting from New York.”

  So, I had “very special friend” status. The evening was off to a good start.

  “Good evening, sir. Welcome.”

  After we ordered, I took Delyse’s hands in mine which she eagerly offered. “This is spectacular. When you said last night that we would be dining alone I assumed you meant our own table at the Lounge. Have you dined here often?” Immediately I wished I hadn’t asked the question. But she was as gracious as she was beautiful.

  “Brandon and I dined here occasionally. I’ve been here with Roje once or twice since he passed.”

  “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have …” She put her hand on mine.

  “It’s okay, Dan. No worries. The fact that I’m here with you tonight should tell you something.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  We held eye contact and I felt my heart begin to pound.

  We ordered wine and delicious seafood, the best I have ever eaten, fresh from the ocean. At one point she laughed and asked, “So, you caught a sweatshirt? Did it put up much of a fight?”

  “No, it was no match for my skills. Incredible, actually. It was an NYU sweatshirt.”

  “NYU?”

  “Oh, I guess the irony is lost on you. NYU is New York University. What are the odds a retired New York City detective would snag a New York University sweatshirt with a fishing pole off the coast of Jamaica? I’m thinking of mounting it as a fishing trophy.”

  After dinner we walked the beach and out to the gazebo. I don’t know how the setting could possibly have been better or more intimate. We embraced on the gazebo and looked at the stars. I got up the courage, not too difficult after two bottles of wine, and asked, “So, you beautiful devilish woman, your note said ‘bring an appetite for food and…’”

  She squeezed my arm. Still looking out at the sea, “And you’re wondering about the ‘and…’ part.”

  “Well kinda, yes. I have an idea but I’ve been wrong before.”

  “You’re not wrong tonight. Come with me.” She turned and led me by the arm toward a small bungalow. As we approached the door, she turned and kissed me. “This is us.”

  The bungalow had a kitchenette, a small sitting area with a TV (which we never managed to turn on), a bathroom with one of those walk-in showers, and a queen size bed. The sheets on the bed were turned down and there was a single rose on each pillow.

  Delyse turned and smiled at me. “You like?”

  “You are incredible.”

  “Have you ever held a rose between your teeth before?”

  Chapter 18: “Malcolm? Is that you?”

  Roje and Gabi had taken a bite of dinner at the Flip Flop that evening, joined later by Ronnie who was planning to meet Ife there. The Rasta Rascals were playing their regular gig. She and Ife planned to have a drink or two with Roje and Gabi then retire to her apartment. Ronnie was in a good place, the whole Finacci nightmare seemingly behind her. Ife was a stabilizing factor in her life and I was happy for her. However at the end of the set, Ife came to the table saying he felt ill and didn’t want to infect Ronnie. Reluctantly she sent him home to his place.

  Delyse had texted both Ronnie and Roje that she would have the Jeep that night and the news was presented in a manner such that there would be no negotiation. They were not to expect Dan at the boat before noon the next day so they could plan on sleeping in. Additionally, she was to receive no texts or calls from either of them. No further details were provided. None were needed.

  While Ronnie fully embraced her mother’s new found excitement, and was equally happy for Dan, Roje was still a little uncomfortable with the situation. After all, she was his mother and she was being, geez, being intimate with a man who was not his father. There are certain images a son just doesn’t want to imagine.

  Ronnie had some fun with her brother. While sipping her drink, she put mischievous eyes on Roje. “So, where do you think they went for dinner?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t want to talk about it.” His jaw was set. He may as well have stuck his fingers in his ears and said, Yes, I’m sticking my head in the sand and nothing you can do or say will get it out. I’m not listening … la la la, I can’t hear you.

  I’d seen Ronnie in action with the needle and she could be relentless. Like a shark sniffing blood in the water from miles away, she insufferably pressed on. “I’ll bet they went to one of those nice romantic resorts along the coast. Maybe a twilight dinner cruise. Maybe Mama got a cottage for the night. Maybe …”

  “Ronika, STOP!”

  Ronnie laughed and patted Roje’s arm. He was turning red.

  Gabi put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him in a comforting way. “It’s okay Roje. She knows what she’s doing and Dan seems like a good man. Your sister knows him so well and certainly would not let your mother be with him if he were anything but good for her, now would she?”

  Roje looked to one, then the other, his shoulders finally sagging in surrender. “I know. Yes, he’s a good guy. It’s just that …”

  Ronnie interrupted. “It’s just that nothing! We both know Mama is fully capable of taking care of herself. She seems so happy now after so long. Let’s just let it go.”

  “But, but they are probably…” Roje either had nothing of any substance to say or he did and just couldn’t force out the words.

  Ronnie and Gabi looked to each other then to Roje and laughed.

  Roje rose abruptly to go to el baño figuring it was a safe haven.

  ~~~

  One of Ife’s bandmates offered to take Ronnie home and she readily accepted. Roje protested but she would not hear of it. “No, Roje. You and Gabi stay here a while and enjoy your night together. They are too rare.” Gabi’s eyes met Ronnie’s and she mouthed a silent Thank you.

  Ronnie lived about four miles inland in a small stand-alone cottage in a secluded area off a beach access road. She had insisted on living on her own rather than staying with either her brother or her mother. She respected Roje’s privacy and didn’t want to be in the way of him and Gabi. They had precious little time together as it was. It had worked out well for Ronnie because she now had the freedom to be with Ife any time they wanted to be together and they both had the time. She liked Ife and was hopeful for a future with him but they were in no hurry. They were both happy with the way things were.

  ~~~

  Watching the small car pull up to Ronika’s cottage, Vernon swore, worried that her boyfriend from the Lounge’s band was going to be a problem. But when the car drove off after she got out and entered the cottage alone he whispered, “Good. I was hoping the musician wasn’t going to be with her tonight. Looks like she’s by herself.”

&
nbsp; Gillian’s voice was calm. “Yeah, looks that way. You handle her but remember, she’s a former cop so be careful and don’t go easy. Use as much force as you need to but try not to hurt her. We need her in good shape. Let’s go.”

  It was easy for Gillian to kick in her door and Vernon was upon her before she had any chance to react or even turn fully around. He grabbed her arm and pressed a pistol into her back. Gillian watched closely to be sure she could not access her weapon. “Stay quiet and nobody gets hurt.”

  Ronnie immediately assessed the situation and forced herself to remain as calm as possible. She knew if she panicked and fought it would not be good for her. There were two of them and one of her. In as steady a voice as possible, “What do you want?”

  From behind Vernon hissed, “I said quiet! I’m not going to say it again.”

  Ronnie’s instantly recognized Gillian Whyte when she saw him. She assumed the owner of the voice behind her was his brother Vernon. She couldn’t recall having ever encountered him yet somehow she the voice behind her was familiar, but couldn’t place it.

  Gillian drew the shades and spoke calmly but left no doubt that he meant business. “Now sit and stay quiet and we won’t have to gag you. Tie her hands.”

  Ronnie turned and then saw Vernon for the first time, realizing why his voice sounded familiar. Her eyes went wide. “Malcolm? Is that you? You’re Vernon Whyte? What …?”

  Vernon softened slightly. “Yes, Ronika, it’s me, Malcolm. Sorry to burst your bubble. Working at the Day-O just doesn’t do it for me. The owners are good people but they pay shit. Now, we need you to cooperate. This will all be over soon.”

  “What will all be over? What are you two up to?” She turned to Gillian. “I suppose this involves whatever it was you were talking to Roje about at the Lounge.”

  Gillian wasn’t nearly as civil. “Shut up! If your brother was smart and thought about accepting what I had to offer, he’d have ten grand in his pocket and we wouldn’t be here. Instead, he’s put you and himself in a tough spot and forced my hand.”