What Came Next E-Book

Suzann Dodd

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

This is the continuation of the story of the ganja trade in Dublin.  The names and locations have been changed.   The focus is on the people involved, not just the trade.

Leseprobe

Suzann Dodd

What Came Next

Part IV of the Clay Game

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG80331 Munich

Chapter One

On Monday morning, the Monday after the Friday Heshimu Linton was paroled from prison, Guillermo Vampria reported his absence to the parole board. He was directed to make a statement at the Central Police Station.

He could have walked the long blocks but drove instead. He parked at the gas station on East Queen Street, walked across John’s Lane to East Street, then into the large pink painted brick station.

He told the police that he had gone to General Penitentiary on Friday. Heshimu Linton had gotten into his car, but asked to visit his relatives in Rockfort. He had driven there, dropped him off, and never saw him again.

The police did a rudimentary visit to Guillermo’s house, saw the room, the untouched bed and left to send out a warrant for his arrest.

Streamer, who was in charge of the ganja flights, and often took local boys who needed to leave Jamaica as passengers, had three who were  booked for that flight.  As Lollisa and Heshimu were important to him, and the three men were not, he'd bumped them from the flight. 

While they argued, his second, Stalin, shot and killed them.   After the plane was gone, they tossed the bodies into a pickup truck,  drove to Rockfort.   It was past two in the morning.  They turned down Hyslop road, dumped the bodies.  Streamer took the chain he'd gotten from Heshimu, put it around the neck of the tallest corpse, then set fire to the bodies.

The bodies were found at seven in the morning. The police were called, and some hours later, the bodies were taken to the morgue.   One of his breddren worked there, and on Monday, told Streamer that no one had identified the bodies.

Guillermo, having made his report to the police, returned to house, parked, and saw Sonia standing in front of his premises. She asked him about Heshimu and was told;

“He jumped out of the car when I reached Mountain View, and ran off.”

She began to babble and cry, and he turned his back and walked away. He didn’t think he had to kill her. But that decision was open.   Sonia, realising she’d gain no sympathy, no further words,  standing on the road alone, felt stupid, so returned to Rockfort to repeat the lie Guillermo had given her, and add to it.

Guillermo had walked towards Kingston Public hospital but didn't have to go more than twenty yards before Sonia departed.

Deciding he had enough of the drama for now  he would return to Cuba.

Cuba and Jamaica had close links, and as a Cuban he could not be out of the country for eleven months without losing citizenship. Every year he went to Cuba for a few months. Sometimes he would leave Jamaica in September and return in January. Sometimes, he’d journey two or three times a year.

As usual, before travel, he would go to Coronation Market and buy a pile of cheap stuff that wasn’t available in his homeland.  He hand the items to a relative, who would sell them.  On his way to the Market, he stopped at the Travel Agency on Law Street, booked a flight to Cuba, leaving in a few days.  When he returned home, the phone was ringing. It was Streamer, informing him 'that ‘a body had been found wearing Heshimu’s chain’.

Guillermo knew what he was being told. He went back to the police station, said he’d heard something about a body found in Rockfort. He was taken to the morgue and identified the body as Heshimu Linton.

The police began to recreate the events of Friday. How they had come to D’Aguilar Road because they had a tip something would happen, how their car was shot up. Obviously, it wasn’t them the gun men were after, they were after Heshimu.

Guillermo listened sagely.

When he’d first come to Jamaica as a young doctor, he assumed it was his imperfect understanding of English which seemed to create ‘alternate facts’.   Over the years he had come to find amusement in how truth bent so easily.

He enjoyed Jamaica as one does a dessert with absolutely no nutritional value. Growing up in Cuba, taking a small part in the revolution, he was accustomed to real rules, real laws, real feelings. Jamaica was a society where everything was  ‘bent’ and if you knew the right people, things happened the way you wanted.

People’s feelings changed with the wind, and there was no true or false. Few people knew how they felt about anything. Few people actually had real opinions. Most were chameleons. He would have classified them as schizophrenic if it wasn’t a national trait.   Trusting anyone was a non-insurable risk.

He listened to the police rewrite reality concerning the event in Rockfort where they went into Sharon's Bar to harass/kill/arrest Heshimu as an attempt to protect him.  If Guillermo hadn't physically been present, if he hadn't been the one to fire on their car and blow up the gas tank of the police car, he would probably believe their version.

Lise, as he, only admitted what was required. She had not dispensed much information of her involvement in the ganja trade, but he knew a great deal. Guillermo knew who Herbie was, he knew Streamer, had treated him at the clinic when he was shot by the police a few years ago.

He knew that on every ganja flight between three and five wanted men left Jamaica, many to die in America as they were expendable.

A Jamaican, reaching America on one of these flights, taken to some unknown city by unknown people, put into some flat somewhere, expected to sell ganja on unfamiliar streets, had to be bright enough to know how to survive or wouldn’t.

The wise ones played Yankee, dropping their accent quickly, learning where they were, where the gang borders were, and finding local women who’d take them, and keep them safe until such time they could function on their own.

He hoped Lise would cut Heshimu loose before he got her killed, for he was a man with very little common sense.

If Heshimu had any sense, he would not have gone to Rockfort. Not have any kind of announcement he was on the street. But Heshimu was a fool. He was dead in Jamaica, and one assumed, wherever he was, he’d be dead in the next few months unless he got an infusion of sense.

Guillermo decided he would call Lollisa just before he was leaving for Cuba to avoid any long discussion.  Heshimu was her brother.  She loved him. But he was as worthless as broken glass and just as liable to injure whomever sought to pick him up.