by Fred Galvin
Vernon Whyte, a guest of the MBPD’s Rosemont Station jail, secured by iron bars.
Angelo “Quack” Duccini, a.k.a. Oatmeal, a fellow guest with Vernon but in a separate cell (luckily for Vernon).
Benecio “Big Bennie” Bulgari, a.k.a. Eggs-Over-Easy, Oatmeal’s cellmate.
Tomaso “T-Bone” Bonefede, whereabouts unknown.
And Rico (surname unknown), currently sleeping with the denizens of the deep somewhere between Grand Cayman Island and Jamaica.
The evening commenced with Delyse addressing the group from the small band platform. “I’d like to say a few words of thanks to you all for your efforts in concluding the horrible events we just experienced.
“First, Amelia Campbell and her husband Daniel, owners of the Day-O Roadside Stop, home of the best bammy and jerk chicken in Jamaica. Amelia cooperated fully when I explained to her what was happening at the Day-O while they were on vacation. Her call to Vernon Whyte spooked him enough to take Ronika and leave quickly which led to Vernon’s apprehension and Ronika’s release. Thank you Amelia.” Applause.
“Captain Jordan Antony and Mrs. Antony, Sergeant Bembe Banyon, I just love that name, and his wife,” applause “and Officer Lonzo Monro, all of the Montego Bay Police Department. Under Captain Antony’s leadership and initiative the entire operation at Runaway Bay was conducted professionally and concluded. Thank you gentlemen.” Applause.
“Officer Gabrielle Dixon, also of the MBPD, who was integral in every aspect of the operation including the tailing of the two, shall I say, goons and discovery of their plan to kill my son and Gillian Whyte. I am also delighted to add that she will soon become Mrs. Roje Deveaux.” Applause.
“I also have to acknowledge the efforts of a special guest, Dan Deckler from New York City. In a previous life he was my daughter Ronika’s partner in the NYPD Homicide Division. He innocently booked an excursion with our charter company and managed to hook a skipjack tuna and an NYU sweatshirt, which gave him quite a fight, the sweatshirt, that is!” Laughter. “When Ronika was kidnapped and Roje was hijacked, Dan immediately went into action with Gabi and later with our MBPD personnel to free her and bring Roje home safely. Dan, you are very special to all of us and especially to me. Thank you.” Applause and embarrassment on my part.
“A quick side note, my daughter’s boyfriend, it is okay to say that, right Ronika?” Ronnie nodded. “Anyway, Ife Barley, my daughter’s boyfriend and our band’s bass player, managed to sleep through the entire ordeal due to a severe cold. After it was all over, he was clueless as to it all and asked her how she had been and if she and Roje had been on any interesting excursions.” Laughter. Ife smiled and saluted the group with his bass guitar.
“Now at the risk of showing some personal bias here, the two stars of the show,” laughter, “Roje and Ronika Deveaux.” Louder applause. “I guess ‘stars of the show’ is a bit over the top since you all are stars. Anyway, you know of their ordeals and they join me in thanking all of you for your efforts to bring them safely home. I now raise a glass to you all. Thank you!”
We all raised our drinks and toasted each other.
“Now there’s entertainment by the Reggae Rastas, refreshments, and drinks for all and it’s all on Deveaux Charter Services and the Flip Flop Lounge. Enjoy!” Loudest applause.
Delyse came off the stage and personally thanked everyone. Finally she was at my side. “That was very well done. You’re a natural speaker, among other things.” She smiled up at me and gave me a kiss. Life was now very good again.
The band took their places and before they started, Ife looked my way and once again ripped off Louis Satterfield’s famous bass riff from Rescue Me by Fontella Bass. I raised my glass to him and mouthed Thank you.
The band played reggae music and everyone had a good time, even Captain Antony. After a couple of tropical beverages he actually loosened up and was smiling in conversation. He walked over my way when the band was on a break.
“Captain, enjoying yourself?”
“Detective Deckler. Oh shit. Can I call you Dan?”
Astounded, “Of course.”
“I noticed the bass player, Ife, right? I noticed he played a bass piece earlier and acknowledged you. Is that a favorite of yours?”
“Yes, it is. In my view it’s the greatest bass riff in rock history by the genius Louis Satterfield.”
“Hmmm.” Curiously he held up a finger indicating to me to wait in place a moment. He walked over to where Ife and Ronnie were leaning against the bar, had a couple of words with Ife who smiled and nodded. He then walked to the stage, lifted Ife’s bass, and strapped it over his shoulder. By this time everyone was watching. He fingered and plucked a couple of strings then began to rattle off Satterfield’s Rescue Me riff flawlessly. The place was silent as he went through the entire riff. Then he calmly put the bass down, nodded to Ife, and walked toward Delyse and me. The room erupted in applause. Antony shyly acknowledged everyone with a wave. I noticed Monro, Banyon, and Gabi gaping wide-eyed like they’d seen an apparition.
Delyse was clapping. “That was incredible. How long have you been playing the guitar?”
“Oh, I don’t play, really. I used to have one when I was a kid but that was a long time ago. My mother said I always had a good ear for music. I used to be able to hear a piece on the piano and sit down and play it, getting most of it right.” Turning to me, “How was it, Dan?”
“It was spot-on as far as I could tell.”
By now Ife and Ronnie were with us, Ife asking all sorts of questions. Ronnie took my arm. “Well, I guess you think you might really know somebody, you really don’t. I never in a thousand years could have imagined that.”
Delyse took my other arm. “That’s generally true. However I think I know this guy. He seems like a good one. Am I right, daughter?”
Ronnie beamed. “You are spot-on, Mama.”
Chapter 42: Katie The Picker - Act II
The Whyte brothers’ trial for kidnapping and gun smuggling lasted all of a day and a half. There was really no defense they could muster. In addition, Gillian was accused of “assisting” Rico over the side of the Sea Nymph, a murder charge. They pleaded guilty and threw themselves on the mercy of the court requesting minimum sentences. That wasn’t going to happen. After Ronnie’s and Roje’s testimonies, and the physical evidence presented (the guns), the judge put them both away for a long time, Gillian longer than Vernon. Given the state of Jamaica’s prisons, it was unlikely anyone would ever hear of Vernon and Gillian Whyte again.
Eggs-Over-Easy and Oatmeal pleaded not guilty to conspiracy to murder Roje Deveaux and both Whyte brothers. The key witness was Gabi with her recounting of their conversation at the diner. The defense tried to make a case that it was merely a conversation and not grounds for conspiracy. The prosecution successfully argued that Gabi’s veracity as a police officer and Eggs’s and Oatmeal’s subsequent actions supported the case. Thus, away they also went into the Jamaican prison system, never to be heard from again. They probably both wished they were in New York’s infamous Rikers Island lockup.
Both cases were presided over by the same judge who had been a close friend of Brandon Deveaux, Roje’s and Ronnie’s late father. At the outset of each proceeding, the defense lawyers called for the judge to recuse himself. He simply replied, “Request denied.” The defendants didn’t stand a chance. Such is the legal system in this island paradise.
Tomaso “T-Bone” Bonefede was at large in the world. All efforts to pin him down in Grand Cayman and New York City proved fruitless. He was only out twelve cases of guns and fifteen thousand dollars. The remaining eighty-five thousand promised to the Whyte brothers upon delivery never materialized. It was assumed Eggs-Over-Easy and Oatmeal had no instructions to pay them but rather to make sure they disappeared after the guns made landfall.
In an ironical twist, the guns themselves found their way into the arsenals of various Jamaican law enforcement agencies which were not exactly cash-flush
and wouldn’t have been able to purchase such fine weaponry otherwise.
~~~
When Gabi returned to her station, her reception was a standing ovation for her work on the case. Captain Antony “scolded” her for “going rogue” in the early stages but he seriously praised her for her brave contributions to closing the case and especially for putting away Eggs and Oatmeal. “in the future, your operating principle is ‘call for backup.’ Understood?”
“Yes, sir. By the way, sir. Sergeant Banyon, Officer Monro, and I would like to acknowledge your professionalism and leadership on this case. Additionally, we also would like to recognize your dexterity on the bass guitar.” She presented him with a small paperweight in the shape of a guitar. Everyone applauded.
Clearly taken aback, Antony actually smiled and shyly accepted the token. “Thank you.” It had been the first time several of the newer officers in the station had seen him smile.
A couple of months later Gabi had another reception. That one she shared with her new husband, Roje Deveaux. Inside of a year, Gabi took and passed the detectives exam. It certainly was not as formal or as structured as we had in the NYPD. It was more of an on-the-job learning type of exam with the few detectives on the MBPD force. She took to the work quickly and was promoted.
~~~
Now surely you will remember Katie the picker? She was a local legend along the highway from the airport with her elaborate talent for making the picking up of road litter a spectator sport. Well, Ronnie had told me that Katie had upped her game. She heard Katie was moonlighting skimming pools part-time and had made that entertaining as well.
I made it a point to go see her again at her usual territory on the airport road.
One morning Delyse and I decided to take a ride and see if we could spot her plying her picker craft. Sure enough, there she was with her picker, flipping road debris into her sack. A couple of cars had stopped to watch, phone cameras clicking away.
I decided I wanted to see just how long a piece of litter that hit the ground within her radius of operations would stay there. Delyse warned me that a test may not go so well as Katie was not shy about voicing her opinions of litterers. I just waved her off and said that I was not afraid of Katie the picker. “What could she do? Pick my nose?”
Delyse’s deadpan reply was a little disconcerting. “She probably could and from ten feet away.”
We were parked along the side of the road. Katie was about thirty feet away keeping a wary eye on us. I opened the window and tossed out a soda can and slowly drove off. Delyse watched over her shoulder while I eyed Katie through the rearview mirror. It was an amazing sight. Glaring at us, Katie sprung upon the can and snatched it with her picker. It flew upward and disappeared into her bag. It had been on the ground less than ten seconds.
Then Katie turned one-eighty, bent over, pulled up her flowing flowery dress, and mooned us! I hadn’t realized Katie worked commando.
Delyse immediately came up with a line that belongs in the One Liner Hall of Fame, “It seems MoBay’s litter problem has bottomed out, at least on this stretch of highway.”
Afterword
I took one more trip back to New York City to tie up any loose ends, say good-byes, and put all things in order that needed to be put in order, like sell my apartment. That last part was easy as my old captain Billy Smart made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I stopped in on the Seventh Precinct to say bye to everyone. Billy and I had a good chat. The elephant in the room (that damned elephant sure got around) was the Fast Frankie Finacci case and Ronnie’s rather sudden departure. While Ronnie had officially said she had “pressing personal business” to take care of, we both knew the two were tied together. But, to his credit, he never put me on the spot. I had briefly discussed Billy’s position with Ronnie and she gave me free rein to say what I felt was fair.
“So, how’s Ronnie? Is she well?”
“She’s doing just fine. She works with her brother on his charter boat.”
“Where the hell would she have ever learned that?”
“It’s in her blood.”
We sat for a while as the elephant paced around. Finally I felt compelled to speak. Billy was good with the damned pregnant pause!
“Billy, I feel I owe you an explanation and Ronnie is okay with it.”
“Dan, you don’t have to …”
“No, let me finish. I’ll say this much. Finacci’s disappearance was somewhat of an accident tied to Ronnie’s self-defense. I hope my saying that I am totally at ease with what happened and that I’ve never felt any differently toward Ronnie will help you to accept it all.”
Billy sat for a minute or so. “That’s good enough for me. Now, there must be a compelling reason for staying down in Jamaica. What’s her name?”
I laughed. “You didn’t make Captain on a lark, did you. Her name is Delyse and she’s Ronnie’s mother.”
That shocked Billy. “Her mother? You dog. Good luck to you both and give Ronnie my best wishes.”
We shook hands and the elephant and I left.
~~~
Back in MoBay, I’m lying in a hammock with Delyse looking out to the Caribbean marveling at how many shades of green and blue there were. A memory of Jen enters my mind and I smile. I know she would be happy that I’m happy.
I give Delyse a tighter hug and she smiles up at me.
I take a sip from my rum cooler. Rum cooler? Me? In all my New York days I had believed I would only drink beer. Since I had been in Montego Bay, I think I’ve had fewer than a full six pack.
Rocking back and forth in my straw hat, shades, flowered shirt unbuttoned, Delyse next to me, I wonder how it could get any better. Delyse waves out toward the Sea Nymph chugging by with four young clients on the deck. Ronnie and Roje call out and wave back from the bridge.
About a week ago I had had a brief thought of resurrecting Double-D Investigations and offering Ronnie a full partnership. The offer lasted as long as it took her to say “No freaking way!” except she didn’t say “freaking.”
One thing I do know for sure, is if I’m ever sitting on a dune looking out to sea again and see a corpse washing up on shore, it’s for sure I won’t be wearing a suit and wingtips. It’ll be shorts, flip flops or sneakers, no socks, and a floral shirt unbuttoned half way down. And instead of checking out the body, I’ll get up and walk away, rather quickly.
I poured a third rum cooler for Delyse and me. I had a slight buzz going. That Bobby Bloom song came to mind …
I'll lay on a lilo 'till I'm lobster red
I still feel the motion here at home in bed
I tell you it's hard for me to stay away
You ain't been 'till you been high in Montego Bay
Another shitty day in paradise. I believe I’ve heard that somewhere before.
*****************************
About the author and the cover artist
Montego Bay was written by Fred Galvin, the author’s nom de plume. He was born and raised on Long Island and retired in 2008 after a career in banking systems in upstate New York and Dallas, Texas. He has two grown children, four granddaughters, and lives the quiet retired Florida lifestyle in Bradenton, Florida, with his wife Margaret.
~~~
The cover was designed by the author’s good friend Rick Papineau, Fine Art Painting and Illustration. Rick is an accomplished and talented artist from upstate New York. He is semi-retired and lives in Sarasota, Florida, with his wife Lois. Rick’s website is rickpapineau.com
~~~
Additional books by Fred Galvin:
The Seventh Wave (prequel to Montego Bay)
Follower
Retribution (sequel to Follower)
What Goes Around … (sequel to Retribution)
Nine Dreams to Dallas
Doppelgängers
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