“How far? You say they were far away? Could you have been too far to see what really happened? Are you sure your girlfriend didn’t know them?”
“Yes! They grabbed her – she was fighting them!”
The room around him was spinning into a nightmare. Edward could see the men taking Mary and the woman on the other end of the phone line didn’t believe him. What would the police do anyways? Bring him into the station to sit in a chair for four hours to get a statement. A statement. And then what? Look for the boat? And what would the drug runners do to her in the meantime? He needed to communicate with the drug runners, tell them he had their drugs, and that Mary had nothing to do with it. It was a big mistake. If only he had a number he could call, an email address, a website for contacting them. He raked his hair with his fingers repeatedly and looked around the room as if he’d find something to help him. Slowly, he pulled the phone off his cheek, held it in front of his face and looked at it, listening to the policewoman talking. Coming from the old earpiece her voice sounded shrunken.
“What was the location? Sir, where did it happen?”
He slowly set the receiver onto its cradle and the room became quiet. Edward knew he needed to talk to someone with contacts. The right kind of contacts. And he needed him now.
~~~
Edward ran down the pier to the shoreline road. The first person he saw was a man pushing an ice cream cart. Edward asked him about the address. The man smiled and nodded, believing that he knew what Edward wanted, and pointed up toward the top of the ridge on the northeastern side of Road Harbor, telling Edward the street he needed to follow all the way up. Edward turned and started running. The street narrowed four blocks up. Then it turned and twisted up the steep slope. Then it narrowed again to a private drive. By the time he reached the end, he was soaked in sweat and out of breath.
The driveway cut into vine-entangled jungle that bordered a wide lawn of cut grass and manicured bushes around what looked like a hundred-year old plantation house. Edward took a minute to catch his breath, bent over with his hands on his knees. He looked up at tall columns that rose the entire height of the two-story mansion. The he ran to the large, solid wood front door. He knocked hard with his knuckles. Behind him, above the wall of brush were a dozen islands, mere anthills from where he stood. He looked out over the ocean and knew she was somewhere out there.
Moments passed and he beat the door again. About ten seconds later the door was opened and he found himself facing the chest of a very large black man wearing a numbered sports jersey. Behind the man, an unseen TV droned on with the noises from a crowd and the voice of an announcer calling plays from a basketball game. The man glared at Edward with his lips curled upward on one side like he’d just stepped in dog shit. His hands came up to rest on his hips, his shirt hanging out over his bulging stomach. Edward tried to speak but found himself winded and took in a lungful of air.
“What!” The man flicked up his eyebrows and jerked out his chin, goading Edward to speak.
On the TV one team scored. Cheering erupted.
“Man, what you want? You makin me miss dat Heat game? You can get your shit from dah bar later.”
“Barry!” Another man called out inside. “Yo Barry, who dat? You missin it.”
“Some sweaty-ass white boy!” Barry yelled over his shoulder. He glared back at Edward, his lip sneering. “I dink he a mute cuz he doonh talk. He juss standin ear lookin, dinks I’m mind reader or some ding. Boy, you ‘ear me? We doonh sell no shit ‘ere. Get it at dah club later.”
“I need Mr. Bones. I need to talk to him.”
“Whaaad?” Barry squeaked. “Mr. Bones? How you know Mr. Bones, boy?”
“We met at the bar. He bought a painting from me – or his girlfriend did. He said I could come here—”
“He said whaaad? Boy, you lyin!” The man jerked his upper body toward Edward, bringing his face inches from Edward’s. “Mr. Bones doonh be tellin no tourist come up to his ‘ouse.”
“I’m not a tourist. I live on Peter Island. I’m a friend.” Edward nodded frantically. He held his arms at his sides to try to calm himself. He must have looked like an addict in need of a hit with the perspiration running down the sides of his shirt.
“Yo Barry, you missin it!”
“You sure you no tourist, boy? Only crazy tourist be runnin round dis time of day, gettin all red and sweaty—”
“No, I’m a friend. Of Mr. Bones. Really.”
His head craned back and tilted slightly.
“Boy, you better be. If he doonh know you, you gonna get a taste of dis right ‘ere.” Barry lifted a set of massive knuckles, three fingers adorned with gold rings. He shook his fist just below his chin before dropping it. He gave Edward one last side glance and sighed heavily.
“Well, come on. Go see Mr. Bones.”
Edward followed, unable to see what was in front of Barry’s wide frame. He only saw what they passed. A hallway. A front room where the game was playing on a large flat screen TV mounted to a wall. Two other large men sat on a couch in that room. They also wore basketball jerseys. Next was a kitchen. Then they exited the house, and were immediately in the shade of a covered walkway filled-in with vines of ivy and bougainvillea. Past this was a garden of red and yellow roses, pink oleanders and blue orchids. When they passed under the branches of a pomerac tree and its red fruit, Barry stepped out of the way.
Directly in front of them was Mr. Bones sitting on a cast iron bench in front of a table of the same material. Behind him was a fountain in the middle of a brick-paved circle. This was in the middle of a garden and yard lined with tall palms and the dense jungle that made the place feel like an enclosed courtyard. He was wearing the same white linen pants and shirt, sandals and black-banded Panama that he had worn at the club. He was working quietly, pushing seeds into a soil-filled egg carton, and so focused that he didn’t see Barry and Edward standing there.
“Yo. Mr. Bone, dis crazy-ass white boy say you know em. I tell him if you doonh know em, he gonna enter a world of pain—”
“Hey! Dat Ed from over dear on Peter Island. Yeah. How you doin, Ed?” Mr. Bones waved a hand, dropping soil off the table and ground. He gave a broad, toothy smile and wiped the dirt off the table.
“Come on over. I’m happy you visitin me. Yes, yes, yes. Good you visit.”
Barry looked from Mr. Bones to Edward. He shook his head and shrugged.
“Yo, Mr. Bone, you be needin me?”
“No, I doonh need you. Unless you wanna dig up dat ol tree I tell you dig up last week.”
Barry looked at Mr. Bones, his eyebrow twisting into a knot. “But dat Heat game on right now, Mr. Bone. Fourth quarter and dey only up by four—”
“Din go watch dat Heat game! Why you offerin if you doonh be meanin id?” He jerked his chin up toward the house. “Askin me and not meanin id.”
Barry quickly turned and trotted back under the covered path. Edward heard the back door being opened and closed behind him.
“I knew you want more of that cherry pie I give you. I get dat from Jamaica. Sit. Sit. Juss dere a good place.” Mr. Bones pointed to a bench across the table from him with his hand still holding a pinch of soil.
Edward walked over and sat down, putting his hands in his lap, pushing his thumb into the other hand’s palm as if massaging out a cramp. He found himself repeating this motion.
“Sorry we doonh keep id ‘ere. Could grow id, but you know be causin big trouble on dah Queen’s land. Doonh need no police trouble, you know. So I grow every-ding else.” Mr. Bones chuckled while inserting his thumb and index finger into a small pack of seeds. He pulled out two and pressed these into the soil of one of the carton cups, gently covered the hole afterwards.
Edward felt like part of him was floating up into the air. His eyes slowly moved up to the top of the tall palms swaying, but the sound from the tinkling fountain grew louder. It grew and grew and became the sound of the ocean washing up a beach. An image flashed before him of a long beach and a body splayed over the sand. Then noise died as if a cup had been put over his ears.