Square Snapper (Detective Inspector Burgess)

by Middleton, Deborah

  Archie was pleased. He enjoyed these breaks in the day and the opportunity to chat with his best friend. Albouy’s Point was a favourite Hamilton haunt for him. It was always breezy and he liked looking out across the harbour and watching the kids learning to sail the little “Optimas.” He hoped he could get a park bench for them.

  A few minutes later Burgess came strolling over.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Preston,” he called out as he passed the blonde English lady painting the children sailing. Her paintings had become familiar in the local art community. Burgess wished he had the money to buy one for Nana. He knew she would love the vibrant colours of the water which provided a stark backdrop to the small boats with their crisp white sails. They would remind her of an earlier, quieter, more carefree Bermuda, when you walked to school, obeyed your parents, went to church on Sundays and life was conducted at a gentler pace.

  The pair of police officers sat on a bench eating their fish sandwiches. Any tourist looking at them would have thought they worked for one of the international insurance companies Bermuda was so well known for. Little would they guess the real nature of their business. Burgess took out his notebook and commented back to Archie on his interview with Mrs. White in Spanish Point. Archie was immediately alert when he heard what the young cousin had said.

  “This could be it, Buddy. We need to get in contact with the authorities in Jamaica and see if they have this guy’s prints on file. Fingers crossed. This could be the big break… and how many men have a snake tattoo on their necks? It’ll be hard to keep that hidden in this heat.”

  “I know. I’m thinking that we need to give this information to the press. With Cup Match coming up, we have got to get this guy arrested and a grip on the drugs.”

  “I agree, there’s no time to lose. I’ll call Pamela and see if she can get an answer from Jamaica one way or another today.”

  “Thanks, Archie. What’re you doing over Cup Match? Because of the murders, I’ve been able to hand over my Cup Match duties so I wondered if you and a date might like to come over for a barbecue on Wednesday evening.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great. I was thinking of seeing if Pamela might like to come along. I like her. She’s cool. Why don’t you see if the lovely lady pathologist might join us?”

  “You know, Arch. I just might.”

  “Good. It’s about time you stopped mooning over her and did something about it!”

  “Okay, bro… I hear you,” laughed Burgess.

  “Well, what’re you waiting for? Start dialling!”

  Just at that moment, Archie’s cell phone rang. It was Detective Gonzalez.

  “Archie, we’ve had some information on the heroin from our guys in Vice. Usually, heroin coming into Miami is from South American countries, Caribbean islands or Mexico. They think that these shipments are probably coming in from South America. The cities that are their primary entry points are Miami, New York, Newark and South West border towns – mainly in Texas. From what their informants are telling them, they believe these particular shipments are coming in from Colombia. So far, it seems as if Miami has been the prime target.

  Apparently, this time they came sewn inside a shipment of teddy bears and other assorted soft toys. Doesn’t it make you sick? What if a child got one of those toys by mistake? Kind of reminds you of when they were sending dope sewn inside the bodies of Vietnam war soldiers whose bodies were being repatriated. Do you remember hearing about that? These people stop at nothing. Anyway, let me get off my soap box. Seems the contact this end is a guy known only as ‘Jefe’, which means ‘boss’ in Spanish, although word on the street is that he’s not from Central or South America. In fact, he’s not even Latino but nobody has ever seen him.”

  “Whoa, this really is a global business. I’m not in narcotics, so I’m learning more and more and you’re right, they’ll stoop to anything to transport the stuff.”

  “Yeah, I got accused today of being lousy at geography. One thing I do know is where Colombia is,” Gonzalez chuckled. “Anyways, we’re now trying to get a bead on this ‘Jefe’ character and his operation. I imagine he will only be one layer. This business is like peeling an onion, my friend. You gotta keep peeling away the layers until you get to the core… which is usually very, very rotten.”

  “Good analogy, Gonzalez, very poetic. At least you didn’t flunk English!” They both laughed.

  “And you should hear me in Spanish. Anyways, I’ll keep you posted.” He signed off.

  Archie turned to Burgess. “That was Gonzalez. They traced the shipment in from Colombia. Go figure. I wonder if it came in poisoned or if that happened when it was processed in the U.S. Anyway, he’s on the case and it looks like there could be a big cartel behind this one. It’s coming in stuffed in soft toys. I would imagine they’ll be tracing any new shipments of stuffed animals. Looks like they could have a break in this.”

  A few storeys up from where Archie and Burgess chatted, a heavy-set businessman spun around in his executive leather chair staring out of floor-to-ceiling windows to get a glimpse of his new 110 foot Sunseeker motor yacht moored at the Yacht Club below. He was a grizzled, brown skinned Bermudian. Everything about him shrieked money; from his polished Italian shoes to the expensive suit specially tailored to hide his girth, to the flashy diamond in his signet ring, this was a man who obviously enjoyed the finer things in life. His office reflected his taste for the expensive. The cream carpet, thick enough to hide a golf ball, was complemented by cream silk padded wallpaper. There was none of the minimalist look here; imported European antiques contributed to the room’s opulence and at its centre, in front of the spectacular view of the harbour, stood the focal point of the room: a magnificent antique partners’ desk. Those, however, who had sat on the other side of it well knew there was no equality here. They were definitely the underling and, no matter how high up in the hierarchy of the company, were made to feel just a little intimidated by the sheer proportions and extravagance of the office. And one should not be fooled by the furniture from yesteryear. The Louis XIV credenza housed an impressive array of electronics which, with the touch of a button, could operate television, curtains, doors, projection screen and an array of lighting. Although there was a company no smoking policy, this office was redolent with the pungent aroma of last evening’s cigars.

  Pressing the telephone receiver to his ear, he hissed, “This just is not good enough.” Although he spoke so as not to be overheard, there was no mistaking the venom in his voice. He tapped his gold pen on the desk to punctuate his sentences. “How can you be selling this stuff? Soon half the addicts will be dead and there goes our repeat business. How could this be such a fuck up? The police are all over this. I hope your man has covered his tracks. Your life, as you know it, will be short lived if he hasn’t.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s nothing that could lead back to us.” The hoarse voice tried to placate. “What we have to do is find out what happened to the dope. It’s obviously got something wrong with it. I haven’t been able to find out what. Our man in the police hasn’t had access to anyone who’s working on the case. Some guy Burgess is keeping a tight seal on things and all we have are rumours.”

  “Who’s this Burgess?”

  “Apparently, he’s the detective in charge of the investigation. We need to watch him. Our man tells me he’s good and like a bloodhound if he feels he’s on to something.”

  “Well, keep an eye on him and do whatever you need to make sure nothing can be traced back to us. In the meantime, I want my money back. I’ll get in touch with my guy in the U.S. and let him know I’m not happy. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll fix this … or we’ll fix him.” He slammed down the receiver, reached into his drawer and pulled out a bottle of McCallan’s. No blended whisky for him. He only drank single malt and smoked the finest Cuban cigars. It was a little early to be drinking but he was rattled. He was annoyed to note the tremor in his hand as he poured himself a large drink in a crystal tumbler. He
added some ice for good measure from the silver bucket on his credenza. This was not a good situation. He liked to stay in the background and bankroll the drug operations. He did not like this business to become headline news and he definitely didn’t like his customers dropping dead from the product. All they needed was for one high profile death and then the government would be forced to really put pressure on the police. This was really not good for business. What the hell was wrong with the heroin? Now that it was on the streets, how were they going to be able to get it off? It wasn’t exactly like your standard product recall. They could hardly put an announcement in the newspaper. In any event, his customers were addicted to the drug. Small wonder they were using it in spite of the danger. The idiots were so desperate they’d do anything to get high. That had always been the beauty of this business. Once you got them, they remained yours for life... literally.

  He could feel the whisky begin to warm his stomach and flow through his veins. He needed to relax. Too much was at stake. As a man used to being in control, he couldn’t stand sitting by helplessly. He hated the fact he could feel his armpits were damp. These physical signs of weakness that were out of his control drove him mad. He had to get a handle on what was going on and put a stop to it. He didn’t like the sound of the detective either. What was his name again? Burgess? His cousin should ask their contact to find out more about him. Perhaps they could offer this gung ho detective an incentive to look the other way. Maybe they could dig up some dirt on him or a family member and leverage it to get him on board. One way or another, if he got too close, they’d have to deal with him.

  Chapter 16

  The Bermuda Gazette and ZBF news were having a field day. More heroin-connected deaths had been reported and the Police Communications Department had issued a statement. Finally everyone knew that the heroin was not an overdose but contaminated with strychnine. The small time drug dealers were furious. Their livelihoods were at stake! They had paid good money for the dope. On Court Street the back room of a music store resounded with the voices of irate pushers airing their grievances. On the airwaves, the decibel level of the People’s Corner set a new record. People were calling saying how the deaths were “God’s punishment” on the sinners. Others were calling for the death penalty for drug dealers. Still more were blaming declining morals and family values. All were prophesying terrible things for Bermuda’s future. And then, to add fuel to the fire, Deon White surfaced…literally.

  911 received a frantic call from a dive boat. It had anchored with a boatload of tourists off the north shore to do some cave diving when someone spotted a blue tarpaulin floating in a sea of white around the rocks. One of the deck hands had managed to secure the tarpaulin with a boat hook, and it was at that point that those on board, realized they had snagged a body and mayhem had ensued. This was one diving trip they would never forget.

  Later, when the police boat had arrived and taken away the body, the story would also surface that the victim was Deon White. He had been found fairly well preserved by the tarpaulin, except for his feet which had been eaten away by fish. The combination of gases in the body and the slow seepage of white paint from the cans, had caused the body to come to the surface more quickly than would have been the case had Deon bothered to put the paint can lids back on more securely - an irony he was, however, in no position to appreciate.

  Burgess and Archie made their way down to the dock to supervise the offloading of the body. The police photographer and an ambulance had both been notified, as had a hundred or so more people, by cell phone and internet. There was quite a crowd gathered eager to be eye witnesses to the gruesome business so they could hold forth at work the next day. Burgess looked around for Johnny McCabe and was rewarded with the sight of his cameraman setting up for the action. Archie came back from talking to him and had learned that Johnny was busy interviewing the witnesses on the dive boat and would be coming over shortly. Burgess marvelled at the energy of the man. He was everywhere and on top of every event that took place on the island. While at times their jobs put them at loggerheads, he had a real appreciation for the reporter’s tenacity and work ethic. He often got to interview witnesses before the police did. Perhaps the police should put him on retainer. He found himself smiling. The police boat was idling a few feet from the dock waiting for the go-ahead to dock.

  “Get this area cordoned off and leave about thirty feet around the dock. We need room to work here.”

  Archie sprang into action at Burgess’s words, taking charge of the crowd and having them moved back. Uniformed police were gradually making progress and giving the police boat a chance to come in without fear of hindrance from the public.

  Burgess walked over to the boat.

  “Don’t do anything until the ambulance gets here. Is the body covered up?”

  “No sir, only with the tarpaulin it’s wrapped in. We don’t have anything big enough to cover everything.”

  “Okay, do your best, then.” Burgess could hear the siren of the approaching ambulance. Jacintha’s going to need some help with this one. Look at all those paint cans and the rope tied all around it. At that point, Burgess caught sight of the feet and his stomach lurched.

  “Cover up the feet,” he shouted over to the boat.

  Archie’s voice next to him said, “Did you see what’s left of them? What the hell is Jacintha going to do with this package? God, I’m glad I don’t have her job.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself, bro’. Let’s stay upwind from this. The smell is pretty awful too. You guys need more help?” He shouted to the men in the boat who were now passing the tarpaulin clad body over to the ambulance crew.

  “We’re okay, sir. Thanks.”

  “Okay, take it back to Dr. Brangman at King Edward’s. I’ve notified her to expect you.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the ambulance driver.

  Chapter 17

  At his office in the Cabinet Building, the Premier had gathered the Minister of Health, Minister of Tourism, Police Commissioner, Minister of Immigration and the Director of Customs. They sat in a semi-circle around his desk on a dark blue leather couch and comfortable wing back chairs. Each had a solemn expression. The Police Commissioner had just finished briefing them on the status of the investigations.

  “And this Detective Burgess… can he handle this without Scotland Yard?” asked the island’s leader.

  “Premier, I believe we have made tremendous headway on the two investigations. We believe that the girl’s murder is linked to the Deon White murder and that White and his accomplice were possibly responsible for landing the shipment of contaminated heroin. As I understand it, we have a description of a man we believe committed the two murders. If we can locate and interview him, then we may get a lead to someone who is higher up the food chain. Furthermore, we’ve been in contact with detectives from Miami’s Dade County Police and they appear to have part of the same batch of heroin on their streets. They have reported that over forty addicts this week alone have died from poisoning. They are working night and day on this case. With them on board, I think we can probably solve this without the necessity of involving Scotland Yard… at least, for now.”

  “Good.”

  The Premier turned to the Minister for Health. “What can we do to prevent more deaths on island?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid, Premier, except to educate the public about the threat to their lives, if they choose to use heroin. We’ll be distributing fliers at the Somerset Cricket Club, Crown & Anchor tents, restaurants and night clubs. We’ve already distributed in the schools and the charities are all on board with fliers in their premises.

  The Bermuda Drug Council is already counselling its clients and we have asked all heroin users to bring in their stash to them on a no names basis. A sort of drugs amnesty, so to speak, to get the stuff off the streets. The Emergency Department of King Edward’s is also doing the same. We’re not going to bother to analyse it, just collect and destroy it all, whether cont
aminated or not.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. Maybe some good might come of this. We’ll get a lot of hard drugs off the streets and maybe some of our youth will take this as a wake up call and stay away from the stuff. What damage control can we do on the tourism front?”

  The Minister for Tourism shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We’re working on it, Premier. It’s not a good situation for us and right in the middle of high season. This is a record year for tourism and we also have a lot of visitors coming in from Miami and cricket fans from the Caribbean. The last thing we need is more deaths, particularly visitor deaths. The U.S. State Department has already put us on its list of dangerous destinations. We cannot afford to have this drag on for much longer, especially since Cup Match is this weekend and there’ll be a lot of partying. Our public relations agencies in the U.S. and Europe are monitoring the press over there and we will try and do our best to mitigate any damage. It’s a first for us, I have to say, but we are in crisis communications mode and will do our best to keep Bermuda in the spotlight for the right reasons and allay any fears. After all, if you are a bona fide tourist, this should not affect you in any way, shape or form. If you’re a heroin user, then that’s another matter. I think it’s a question of keeping the press on side, rather than allowing everything to degenerate into a free for all. Speculation and rumour can take on a life of their own.”

  “Well, as politicians we’re all very aware of that.” The Premier looked glum.

  Next, the Premier called on the Director of Customs to talk about the measures in place at the airport and docks. More sniffer dogs would be on duty and the Bermuda Regiment had been called in to assist. Together with Marine & Ports, the police were trying to patrol the shore line and members of the public had been encouraged to call in with any suspicious activities, such as boats running without lights or signal lights flashing from offshore to onshore and vice versa. It’s not easy, we don’t have a fleet of patrol boats and there are so many coves and beaches that it’s hard to cover the coastline.”