“Bubby, you were caught with the knife in your pocket and Pell’s blood soaking your shirt and pants. Did you kill him?” Townsend paused to lean his chair as far back as it would go to get away from the sickening smell of drying blood and sweat that permeated his small office space. “If you cooperate, I might consider helping you with the prosecutor.”
“I be fighting for my life. Me and Pell, we smoke some ganja and drink some rum. He in deep. He been skimming and owes boss long time. Boss sent me to collect.”
“Boss? Who is boss?”
“Mr. Mulee is boss.”
“What about Mr. Murdoch? James? Isn’t he boss?”
“No, mon … he not boss who ordered me to collect from Pell.”
Townsend frowned. He wanted James Murdoch. “But he is a boss?”
“Yes, he is other boss.”
Townsend knew he had them both. “Hmm … So boss Mulee ordered you to kill Pell.”
“No! We were once like brothers. I ask him nicely to pay the money he owes. I tell him boss not going to hurt him. He gets angry and calls me a traitor. He pulls a razor and holds it to my throat. And with his other hand he slaps me hard on my face.”
“So you killed him for a slap on the face?”
“No!” Bubby whined, shaking his head. Tears streaked down his face. “I fell to the ground, and he kicked me in the stomach. He cursed my family and said he was going to cut out my heart with his razor. And then he starts to laugh like he is a crazy mon. Says he is going to eat my heart while it is still beating!”
“And, because Pell says he is going to eat your heart, you kill him?” Townsend prodded, knowing he was getting close to making a deal.
“He pick up rum bottle, take a swig, and throw the bottle against wall above my head. Glass come down and cut me.” Townsend watched as Bubby pointed to several cuts on the side of his face. “And he say he is going to eat my heart because it is said in obeah that he will also get to live out my life, and I would not have an afterlife. I take knife from my pants behind my back, and when he is over me and going to cut me open with razor, I stick him.” Townsend watched the man pause to stare through the light with the sweat and tears soaking his face. “I defend myself … I kill him.”
A calculated moment of silence passed when Townsend got the result he wanted. Bubby broke down and sobbed. He had been forced to confess because of his fear of losing his afterlife through obeah, the witchcraft or spiritual science of native Africa that had become a type of voodoo in Jamaica. This tradition put bone-chilling fear in the meekest of his countrymen and drove them to kill. Bubby had been about to be sliced with a razor by Pell, and his fear of the supernatural had provoked him to kill. Townsend was satisfied. He would now be compassionate and get the information he wanted on Murdoch and Mulee’s operation. And, in exchange, Townsend would support Bubby’s plea of self-defense to the prosecutor. Bubby would do some time, but it would be in Townsend’s jail.
“Okay, I believe you,” Townsend said confidently. “Do you want something? Water or food?”
“Yeah, mon, I need to go to loo. And, please, some water.”
Townsend jumped to his feet, smiling. He was about to assume the role of the “good cop” in the good-and-bad-cop method of questioning witnesses that most police agencies employed.
“Escort Bubby to the loo. Get him water and clean clothes,” he said to one of the officers. He was confident that the officer would put Bubby’s blood-stained clothes in an evidence bag, sign the ticket for the officer who manned the locker, and both men would note it in their reports. “And bring back some sandwiches,” Townsend added as the officers escorted Bubby out of the room. Townsend turned on the overhead light and left the door open to let in some cool air from the anteroom. The body heat and the smell of four men in his small office with the door closed was too much for him and his air conditioner to handle.
Townsend’s khaki jacket showed wet semi-circles around his armpits. Before he stepped in front of the air conditioner he read the fax from Inspector Twill in Tortola telling him James Murdoch and several men had arrived that morning and checked into the Marine Hotel. Townsend would call Twill after he secured enough information from Bubby to get the arrest warrants. Townsend picked up the phone and dialed Jac Kidd’s cell phone number. While waiting for it to connect, he lifted his right arm and bent down to center the air stream to the center of his armpit.
“Mr. Kidd?”
“Hello, Inspector. I’ve been expecting your call.”
“I just got word from Inspector Twill that James Murdoch and Renaldo Mulee, along with several others, checked into the Marina Hotel on Tortola.”
“Thanks for the information, Inspector. I knew they were on the island but not about the hotel. The Marina Hotel is a hundred yards down the highway from Chauncey’s aunt’s house,” Jac said before informing Townsend of the incident that had occurred that morning.
“I’ll be in Tortola with arrest warrants as soon as I can. Mr. Kidd, please be careful. I wouldn’t rely on the local inspector. He doesn’t have much in the way of help, and he’s afraid of Murdoch’s power, not only on Tortola, but on most of the islands. He said he and several of his men will attempt to impound Murdoch’s boat before we confront them at the hotel. But to be honest, I wouldn’t count on his success.”
“I anticipate some trouble before you arrive, but don’t worry. I think we can handle it. Oh, and I promise I won’t spoil your surprise.” Jac had decided not to let Chauncey know Townsend was coming, at least not right away. He’d wait until after their plan was set in motion.
“I’ll call you in the morning,” said Townsend. “Be careful. And, Mr. Kidd, please don’t make the mistake of under estimating James Murdoch. He’s dangerous, and he has lots of resources.”
“Please call me Jac. And don’t worry. My partner’s middle name is Careful. And he keeps me in line.” Jac smiled. “Just try and get here as soon as you can.”
“I will … Jac.”
Townsend hung up, and was still in front of the air conditioner when Bubby reentered his office wearing a set of the dark-green scrubs that were issued to station house prisoners. Townsend smiled kindly and motioned Bubby to sit. “I hope you feel better.”
“Yes. Thank you, mon.”
Showing another gesture of his good faith, Townsend reached over and turned off the light that had been shining in Bubby’s eyes. “Now, let’s get down to business. If you want to make a deal, you must tell me again the name of the person you refer to as boss.” Townsend turned around and picked up a small tape recorder from the corner of the credenza in back of his desk. “I want you to state your name, and when I ask you if you understand that the statement you are giving is under oath and can be used in a court of law, you will give me a verbal answer. I will ask you if you give this statement of your own free will without coercion. And again your answer must be verbal.” Townsend knew the answer to his questions, but now he would finally have what he had been after for years—a sworn statement and a witness who could testify.
After fifteen minutes, Townsend clicked off the recorder. He knew everything he needed to know about the theft operation, and more. Twenty minutes later one of Townsend’s officers picked up five tickets for the next afternoon’s plane. Forty minutes later, after a short conversation with Inspector Twill, Townsend called the magistrate’s office for an appointment to secure arrest warrants. He had the ammunition he needed: the signed statement of Bubby Brewster implicated Murdoch, Mulee, and several others. He hoped the magistrate wasn’t on Murdoch’s payroll.
CHAPTER 32
The Mariner Hotel
“Damn it, Kincaid, I can’t do everything!” Remy screamed. “You’ll do this or you will suffer the consequences!”
“But, Remy I’m an ordained minister. I can’t break the commandments.”
Remy slammed his fist into the table, “B
ullshit! Commandments! You’ve broken almost every one of them, and you stopped being a minister a long time ago. Now don’t be an asshole and force me to hurt you.”
Kincaid feared what would happen to him if he continued to question Remy’s leadership. It was futile and dangerous to push the argument any further. Remy was capable of murder, and Kincaid didn’t wish to be his next victim.
“Please stop yelling at me. I’ll do it,” Kincaid said.
“Get your shit together, and let’s go. James is waiting.”
“Now listen carefully, and look at this,” James said as he rolled out a drawing on the small table. “I drew it from memory. It’s a skeleton plan of the walls inside the house. It’s as much as I know of the passages and tunnels. There are more, so stay on this one. ” He pointed at an area in the foliage that fronted the house and looked at Remy and back at Kincaid wondering if the reluctant pastor was capable of carrying out the plan.
“Okay, Kincaid and Mulee, here’s what I want you to do. You will get into the house at around three o’clock tomorrow morning through this abandoned escape tunnel.” James looked at Kincaid. He tapped on what looked like a clump of bushes on the other side of the lines drawn to depict the highway in front of and about sixty feet from the house. “Here. This is about where you will dig out the dirt and cut back the shrubbery covering the entrance shaft.” James slid his hand through the depiction of the tunnel he’d penciled in, and tapped his finger on a specific part of the drawing. “And this is where you will climb up the inner staircase until you come to a dead end. At this point, you will be outside of the wall of a great room in the attic.” James patted the area on the map and pointed at an area of the wall that would open into the great room. “This is where the wall opens. Many years ago, when the room was built, a secret door was put in to allow smugglers to hide behind the wall, and if necessary, escape through the tunnel.” He reached over and picked up a half-full glass containing the Jamaican Appleton Estate rum Mulee had poured for everyone. James looked around the room at the attentive faces and focused on the eyes of Kincaid.
“There will be consequences if you fail,” James said.
CHAPTER 33
Auntie Mick was waiting at the small doorway when Jac and Chauncey returned from the upstairs room. She was holding what Jac thought looked to be a very old Bible.
“Are you sure you want to do this, child?”
“Yes, Auntie,” Chauncey said. “It’s time. I trust these people and feel a bond has been established.”
“I too believe they are good people. They will help you find the answers you have sought all your life,” Auntie Mick said.
The two women locked their gaze as if they were reading each other’s thoughts. Chauncey raised the lantern. She extinguished the light and set the lantern on the floor.
Auntie Mick handed the book to Chauncey. “Now go, child. Tell them what you never told anyone—our family’s secret.”
It was spring break for colleges in the United States, and thousands of students filled hotels on all the islands in the Caribbean. The Marine Hotel was nearly full with college kids escaping from the cold in the northeastern United States. They came to party and to enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful beaches on the island of Tortola.
Exiting the hotel and wearing a Harvard T-shirt, a Boston Red Sox baseball cap, cutoff jeans, and aviator sunglasses, James Murdoch appeared to be one of the college guys. Acting carefree, laughing, and making small talk with one of the girls walking next to him, he kept his head bent low. He turned to hide his scar and snuck a peek across the road toward Auntie Mick’s house. No one was moving about outside that he could see. He knew Auntie Mick might be watching from the house with her binoculars. He never could put anything over on her. She was a clever old bird. After his father had been killed by the sharks, his mother had sent him to live for a summer with Auntie Mick to heal his wounds.
James thought his mother was getting rid of him. Instead of telling her he loved her, he said he hated her for filing for divorce from his father. He blamed her for his father’s death. He did hate her, and he resented her. Later he realized it wasn’t her fault; she had been right to seek a divorce. His father beat her, and she’d had enough of him. She had wanted to protect her son.
Coming to Tortola and just being around Auntie Mick had turned out to be the best year of his life. He loved and feared Auntie Mick and would never let anything happen to her.
His anger smoldered when he thought of his mother and her clandestine meeting with the elder Kidd at the hotel. It was clear now that she didn’t trust her own son anymore.
James had made several discoveries during his summer stay on Tortola, but the one no one knew about—not even his mother—would prove invaluable to the success of his plan. It would enable him to take whatever his mother and her friends knew about the two pirate women and consummate the deal with the Americans. He didn’t trust Remy and Kincaid. James had told Mulee to become friendly with Remy and find out what he was really up to. He had told Mulee that, if they came up with the goods, it would be a fifty-fifty split with Remy. And if Remy wouldn’t agree, well, he thought, he and the pastor might just end up being a shark’s dinner.
James remembered that, toward the end of his yearlong stay with Auntie Mick, his mother came to visit a few days before taking him back with her to Jamaica. Late that first night, after a heated mother-son argument when she divulged that she had changed her name back to Rutherford, he was angry and couldn’t sleep. He heard noises in the house and went to investigate. The noise—a scraping sound—was coming from what he always called the ship room. The door was open that led to the passageway and stairs up to the ship room. Being careful not to make any noise, he climbed up to the room below the ship room. He looked up and saw the light from a lantern. He heard his mother grunt. He quietly climbed up the steep steps. When he came to the opening at the top, he looked into the room and saw some books sitting on a shelf inside the wall where a plank had been removed. When he saw her reach into the wall, take out the books, and start to pick up the lantern, he quickly climbed down the stairs and ran back to his room.
An hour later, he couldn’t sleep. Not hearing any noise in the house, he crept downstairs to the kitchen to get a snack and found the light on. Several old books and papers had been left on the table. After making sure everyone had gone to bed, he began to read the book that was left open. He found himself captivated with the story it told. It was a diary. He turned to the inside page of the front cover to find out if the author had given her name. Scrawled in faded black ink was the name Mary Read.
The story was fascinating. It told of Mary’s friendship with another woman named Anne and how they had hidden their share of plunder on an island because they were afraid the pirate captain, who had the unique name of Calico Jack, would find it when he returned from a spree on Tortuga.
“James!” his mother had yelled from behind him. “Put that book down—now!” He remembered being scolded for sneaking around behind her back. She proceeded to tell him it was a fictional story and that he was never to touch the diary or any of the books or papers again.
The next morning at breakfast she told him that, when he was older, he could help her find something that would change their lives forever. He had thought about the incident several times over the years. He had never asked her about the book and what he had read, and she had never brought up the subject again. He actually had forgotten about the diary until Remy and Kincaid arrived in Jamaica.
“Damn her! Damn her to hell!” But even with his anger, he knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
James walked past the house trying to see through the scrub brush for any sign of the hidden tunnel.
CHAPTER 34
Auntie Mick’s house
Mandrago, Michael, and Roni were on their way back to the Golden Adventurer when Chauncey and Jac joined Peri and Abigail in th
e dining room.
“Everyone have a seat. Chauncey wants to tell us something,” Jac said. He excused himself and went to retrieve some documents from his bedroom.
Several minutes later, Jac returned, sat down, and placed onto the table the folder containing a copy of the diary and map Abigail had found.
Peri poured everyone a round of fresh coffee.
Chauncey thanked Peri and asked Auntie Mick for a cup of tea. She carefully placed the old book on the table and sat down across from Abigail.
Everyone was curious and stared at the book.
“This is our family Bible,” Chauncey explained. “A family tree is displayed here on the inside cover. The tree with all its branches traces my family’s heritage back to the year sixteen seventy-four. That is the year we believe our family first acquired this house.” She paused while Auntie Mick poured steaming cups of tea for her and Peri. “I say first acquired, because in seventeen twenty-eight, we were dispossessed for thirty-five years before our family was able to regain possession. During the thirty-five years, part of the house burned and was then rebuilt in a modified layout to become the structure it is today.”
“So during the dispossessed years it was used for the other purposes you mentioned?” Abigail inquired.
Before answering, Chauncey smiled. “Yes, but my family wasn’t all that innocent either; besides being in politics, they operated a brothel in the house for a few years.” After a momentary pause to digest the similarity between politics and a brothel, everyone chuckled.
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