by Paula Lennon
Preddy picked up the fallen rattle from which the sticky tape had begun to strip and noted that it was heavier than it appeared. No toy was really childproof, no matter what the manufacturer said. He pasted it down firmly again and shook the object in front of the child’s animated face.
“My bwoy pickney is my business. Wha’ you want?” Darnay swooped down and picked up his son, before snatching the toy from Preddy.
“Now dat is not a nice way to greet us, is it, Mr Darnay? We have a few questions to ask you. You have been very evasive for de past few days.”
“You no see me have work to do?” the wanted man blustered, clutching the child as if it was armour.
“Like what?” Harris enquired. “Ye tell me what work can be more important than assisting the law?”
“Me say wha’ you want, Officer Whitebwoy?”
“I can live with Officer Whiteman, Mr Darnay, but it’s actually Detective Harris.”
“We came to give you de good news dat your car has been found,” said Preddy. “But I guess you heard ’bout it already?”
Darnay looked sullen. “Me no hear nutten.”
“Oh, so you just disappeared because you felt like a few days’ holiday?” asked Preddy.
“Jamaica no free country?” Darnay directed his disdain at Harris. “Since 1834 black man can go wherever we want, whenever we want. ’Member dat.”
“Aye, and today ye want tae come tae the station for questioning. I have a short fuse that’s getting sunburnt. Remember that.”
“De station a no place fi me,” said Darnay, moistening his lips. “Me have people to see and business to run.”
“We came here tae arrest ye, Mr Darnay. Now ye have a choice, ye can come quietly or naw.” Harris patted his pocket which revealed the outline of handcuffs.
Darnay’s eyes followed this movement nervously. “Damn police always a harass people, man! Why you can’t leave man alone?”
Preddy shook his head at him. “Because you refuse to change your life, Mr Darnay.”
“You no need worry yourself ’bout my life. My life is right here, inna my hand.”
“You need to put down your life before you drop it and come wid us,” said Preddy.
“Me don’t do nutten wrong,” insisted Darnay. “From time to time me make a bad choice, but...”
“Bad choice?” Preddy interrupted. “Bad choice is getting a permanent tattoo of a baby’s name and birth date.”
Darnay frowned. “Say what?”
“A man is dead. You can go stand up in front of jury and tell dem ’bout you ‘bad choice.’”
Darnay glared at Preddy. “Alright, me will come.”
“We dinnae have a nursery at the station though,” said Harris.
“Me a go give my bwoy to him mama. See her park over deh so.”
“Go ahead, sir,” said Harris, moving aside and allowing Darnay to pass with his son.
Darnay walked in front of the detectives who remained at a respectful distance allowing him to say goodbye in private. He handed the little boy through the drivers’ window. The woman opened the car door and stepped out with the child, clearly arguing with her partner.
“Seems a wee bit annoyed that he’s given up on his babysitting duties so early,” said Harris.
“Particularly as he hasn’t been a hands-on father recently,” agreed Preddy.
In a flash Darnay leaped onto a motorbike, gunned the engine and sped away from the forecourt leaving the angry woman and screaming child behind. A customer stared after his departing motorbike in astonishment.
“A whe de bumbo claat you a go wid me bike!”
“Och, here we go!” shouted Harris sprinting back to the police jeep, followed closely by Preddy.
Harris set off at pace behind Darnay with blue lights flashing and siren screaming. A gas tanker in front of their vehicle prevented the detectives from getting a clear view of the motorbike. Harris sounded the horn wildly, but the eighteen-wheeler was too big and too heavy to nip out of the way.
Darnay veered off onto a side road while Harris, driving too fast to stop, flew past on the main road. Preddy slammed the dashboard in exasperation and then unholstered his gun. Harris cursed as his jeep travelled on for at least thirty metres before it slowed enough for him to do a safe U-turn. He followed the side road knowing that the fugitive was at least a full minute ahead. Harris hesitated at an intersection. A phone card vendor gesticulated wildly, pointing out the way to go. The detective put his foot down again and followed the man’s directions.
A far away hump in the road was making it impossible to see what lay ahead of it. As Harris approached it he came upon a cloud of dust and applied the brakes sharply as a cluster of driftwood shops suddenly appeared in view. The stolen motorbike lay upside down where the collision had bent a lamppost, dislodging the Western Union sign which now hung precariously overhead. Darnay was nowhere to be seen. A crowd of people were huddled over something in the road, screaming and shouting.
The detectives ran towards the group with guns drawn, ordering them to get back and as the people moved away an old man became visible. One of his legs was bent in an unnatural position beneath him and his badly twisted bicycle wheel told its own tale. Harris shouted out to phone for an ambulance while he crouched down and tried to make the groaning man comfortable.
Preddy looked up and realised that a second group of people, mainly young men, were shouting and whacking away at something in the grass verge. By the time he got there Darnay was recognisable only by the light blue shirt and white shorts he had been wearing earlier, both of which had new red streaks.
The detective fired his gun once into the air. The crowd bent low and quickly melted back from the bloody fugitive. One of the men dropped a stick and fled. Darnay’s face was covered in blood which drained from his neck and pooled onto his chest. It was easy to tell which side of his body he had landed on, as the skin hung loose from that arm and leg exposing red flesh beneath. Preddy was unsure which of the other injuries were caused by Darnay’s encounter with the gravel and which had been caused by the incensed vigilantes. The fugitive groaned but did not speak and Preddy was just glad he had survived.
An ambulance eventually arrived on the scene, carefully negotiating the uneven roadway and was followed by a local police car. Preddy spoke briefly to the two responding police officers. The paramedics loaded the injured old man into the ambulance first, accompanied by a middle-aged woman clutching his hand and mumbling prayers through her tears. Darnay’s bloodied body was lifted in next and a paramedic climbed in with him, escorted by a police officer under request from Preddy. He had a lot of questions to ask Darnay and the time for playing games was long over.
“If he tries to run, shoot him in de good leg,” Preddy said.
“Yes, sir.”
He watched as the ambulance pulled away and then approached Harris, who was busy rummaging around near the overturned bike. “What we have here?” asked Preddy.
“A smartphone with a damaged screen and Darnay’s young bairn’s rattle,” said Harris holding one item in each hand. “It’s held together pretty well considering.”
“Hmm, let me see dat toy.”
*
Preddy sat in the evidence room by himself surveying the many piles of information gathered on the case. The largest batch of notepapers sat in a manila folder and related to calls made just after the ten-million-dollar reward was announced by the Chin Ellis family. The extra officers assigned to help with the overflow had managed to go through most of them, thanks to the help of the rest of the team, but nothing of significance popped up. Strange how everybody suddenly knew something when there were ten million reasons why they should. The job was hard enough without idle distractions.
He was disappointed that the doctors refused them permission to interview the injured Darnay who was now under armed guard at Cornwall Regional Hospital. What he really needed was for someone to admit seeing Darnay in the vicinity of Carter’s house or
better yet to have found the murder weapon. The man needed to have pressure heaped on him from a great height.
As Preddy picked up a folder, a piece of coloured paper fluttered to the floor and he bent to retrieve it. On it were written a man’s name and phone number. No date to indicate when the message had been taken, but he recognised Spence’s handwriting. A second later she walked into the room with a thunderous look on her face.
“Have you spoken to dis guy yet?” he asked.
Spence put down her files and approached the detective screwing up her eyes to see from a distance.
“Mr Delmere?” said Preddy.
“Oh, dat’s de paper I’ve been looking for all morning, bartender at Sienna’s,” she said, reaching for the note. “You know how much time I waste wid people pon phone today? Look like some a dem just love attention. Even dis morning me interview one girl who don’t know nothing, but she asking me question. Me tired ah dem!” Spence kissed her teeth loudly.
Preddy knew the warning signs well when it came to stress. Spence was a hard-working woman who did not suffer fools gladly, but even the best detectives occasionally experienced burn out.
“I tell you what,” said Preddy. “I’m just going to finish dis page den I’ll go down and get some drinks. Phone calling is thirsty work.”
“You can say dat again.”
Spence reached for the phone and dialled the man’s number.
“Oh really,” she said on the phone one minute later, clicking her fingers to get Preddy’s attention. He swung round in his chair and looked at her as she gave him the thumbs up. “And when was dat?”
“What happen?” mouthed Preddy, impatient for her to get to the end of this one-sided conversation.
“Thank you for dat, Mr Delmere.”
“Is what happen?” asked Preddy, before Spence had even returned the phone to its cradle.
“Zadie Merton. She left de club early on Sunday morning, probably around 1 a.m. Seems she forgot to mention it.”
“Zadie and Darnay,” murmured Preddy.
“She cried off work saying she had a migraine and needed to get away from de stage lights,” Spence continued. “We need to find out what she has to say ’bout dat.”
“No wonder she was so reluctant to come forward,” said Preddy.
“I know say dat girl well lie!” Spence narrowed her eyes. “Now dis me want to hear all ’bout from Zadie mouth.”
“She really likes you too, I hear,” said Preddy, smiling as he got to his feet.
He walked downstairs to the canteen and leaned over the counter trying to see inside of the cooler that was full of bottled drinks. The lady behind the counter rose when she noticed him.
“Give me de juice, please, one bottle of each.” Preddy took the refreshments and headed back up towards the evidence room, passing Timmins on the way. The men nodded at each other.
“Alright, sir?” said Timmins.
“How you do?” said Preddy without stopping.
Timmins scowled. He wanted to ask Preddy if there was any news on the bracelet, but it was clear that the detective did not think he was worth the time of day, even after he had given the team such a good lead.
When Preddy returned to the evidence room Rabino had appeared and he rued the fact that he would now have to give up his own drink. Rabino looked up at him.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” she said. “Is the pineapple mine?”
Preddy smiled and waved the bottles in the air. “I’ll let Spence take her pick I think.”
Spence looked up and flopped backwards in her chair dramatically. “You save me life! Give her it, me love de mango.”
“Is Harris around anywhere?” asked Preddy. “If I go back downstairs I guess I need to find a drink for him too.”
“Him say him is de boss.” Spence cut her eyes at the empty chair. “Make him buy him own drinks.”
Preddy would not be drawn. “Is just drinks, ah no nothing.”
“Saw him earlier, but that man is well shady sometimes,” said Rabino. “I don’t know where he’s gone now.”
“Maybe him find another wine and cheese party to go cock up,” suggested Spence. “Look like him well love dem things deh.”
*
Night had begun to fall when Preddy exited the rear of Pelican Walk station. Silver stars blinked faintly in the sky as it rapidly changed from light blue to dark blue. He made his way to the car park where sat police issue jeeps as well as private cars belonging to officers, interspersed with vehicles belonging to members of the public seized for some traffic offence. Most were towed for having no insurance although some were taken for having bald tyres. It was noticeable that the working police cars sitting alongside the seized cars had equally defective tyres.
For once he wished that the car park was not so well lit. Usually, when the bulbs blew they would stay unchanged for months. Coincidentally, all four were replaced the day before the arrival of one Sean Harris. A group of officers exited the building and nodded at him as they headed for their vehicles. When they left Preddy sidled in between the vehicles and began searching for his target. He stopped beside a white jeep and checked the registration plate then tried each of the doors only to find them securely locked. The detective cupped his hands and peered through the rear side window.
Behind him the station door opened and he crouched down pretending to tie his shoelace, waiting for the person to pass. When the silence resumed he turned his attention back to the window. He ran his fingertips along the top of the window seal and pushed against it. After some effort it began to slide down. Once a sizeable space had been created, Preddy used both hands to push it down firmly. He then leaned in and used his flashlight to examine the interior.
“Detective Preddy.”
Preddy leaped back so abruptly he hit his head on the window frame. He steadied himself and stared at the officer.
“Officer Timmins.” It was hard to appear unfazed when standing there with a flashlight, but the detective did his best. He fumbled for the off switch and resisted the urge to rub his pulsating head.
“You looking for something in particular, Detective?”
“Making sure de vehicles are secure, Officer.”
“Vehicles? But a one car me see you a look inna.” Timmins folded his arms across his chest. “And a long time you a look pon it too. Me see you from upstairs.”
At the sound of the back door opening again Preddy looked beyond Timmins’ shoulders and identified the departing shape. Footsteps crunched loud on the gravel as the body came nearer. Preddy bent double, lunged at Timmins and dragged him towards another car.
“Down, quick!”
Timmins obeyed. He could not see the cause of the danger, but in this line of work he had learned to duck without asking questions when told do so. The two men stayed hidden behind the car. Timmins pulled out his service weapon and held it to his side. Preddy signalled him not to move.
The footsteps halted outside of the white jeep and the detective watched as the man’s boots ground out a cigarette. He knew those boots well and had often seen them attached to a tall, bow-legged body.
The car door opened and closed, the headlights went on. It took an age for the engine to start and Preddy held his breath praying that the driver would not notice the open window. Slowly the vehicle pulled away. Preddy waited until the sound of its engine was distant before standing up and offering a hand to the dishevelled Timmins.
“A wha’ de rass a gwaan, man,” the officer asked, breathing heavily. “A couldn’t Nembhard we a hide from?”
“Actually...” Preddy sighed and contemplated what to say.
“What him do?”
“Before I answer dat, I have a one question to ask you,” Preddy said. “And I don’t want to hear no nonsense, just yes or no.”
“Gwaan ask.”
“I know dat you have heard dis question before. De night dat you and Franklin picked up Carter and Lester, dem did ask for your name?”
Timmi
ns felt his legs wobble and was thankful that Preddy’s flashlight was off. He had lied about this previously and now Preddy was practically forcing him to lie again. The crickets on the dry lawn chirped loudly in an aggressive manner, taunting him. Even the car horns, tooting on the main road, suddenly seemed much nearer. All this noise when he needed to think and think quickly.
“Be very careful, Officer. Remember is just me and you here.” Preddy said darkly as if reading his mind. “I don’t have no listening device or recorder.”
Timmins thought about where his struggling career could possibly go after this. Preddy would deem him untrustworthy and might even force him to transfer. Those damn Chin Ellis brothers were so cocky and entitled that he had taken an instant disliking to them. If only he had just answered the question and given up his name instead of breaching protocol and putting his career in jeopardy.
He was not even sure why he had chosen to lie to the detective in the first place, except that the mention of murder had caught him off-guard. Lying was never his thing. He pushed the thought of his career reaching a premature end from his mind.
“Yes, dem did ask we,” Timmins said, hanging his head. “We never tell dem.”
Preddy exhaled silently and leaned back against a car, savouring the cool evening air and admiring the bright array of stars that winked at him from on high. The detective had always believed this element of Lester’s tale.
“Come wid me,” said Preddy.
CHAPTER 29
Friday, 14 August, 2:02 p.m.
Zadie dusted the display cabinets, carefully removing the more valuable ornaments to buff and replace them. She hated housework and still held onto her dream of becoming a wealthy kept woman, renouncing the need to do any menial labour, a dream she had come so close to achieving. The idea of having a helper appealed to her vision of grandeur. Carter had sent her a cleaning woman from time to time, but she was not keen on strangers touching her possessions, and she had so many expensive trinkets that it might take a while to work out if something was missing.
One woman had made off with a pair of gladiator sandals that could not possibly fit over her fat ankles. The thieving woman had taken them from beside the front door where Zadie had placed them with the intention of dropping them off at the Salvation Army. If she had stolen one of the many boxed pairs in the shoe closet the theft would never have come to light. When Zadie demanded their return the woman had turned nasty and threatened to hit her. Not being a fighter, Zadie had backed off but she was now much warier of the characters that crossed her threshold.