JAMAICA DEAD A LAURA AND GERRY MYSTERY
PROLOGUE
Mama Mary Allen sat in her store front salon where she read palms and did tarot readings for the tourists. Beyond these skills the “psychic medium” she claimed to be was a sham that made her a ton of money nonetheless.
She was doing a reading for some tourists when she stopped dead and a vision took over. She had never had a real vision before and frankly it scared the crap out of her. Fortunately the couple sitting at her table were eating her “act” up. In this vision she saw a wiry man in tasteless garb that screamed tourist. The man was fighting for his life in a struggle with an unseen spirit. He was writhing and screaming for help but it was not to come. Mary recovered from her fugue and spouted something that the tourist and his wife would buy into.
“When can we expect this miracle as you put it?”
Mary looked at them and said “no worries, soon come, soon come.”
Mary stood up to indicate that the visit was over and that she needed to rest. The couple thanked her and left her shop. Mary promptly turned over her sign to closed and shut the lights off. She really did need to lie down and think about her vision. Mary fell into a deep sleep but still managed to dream of a couple in their thirties vacationing on the island. They would play prominently in the vision of the dying man. Laura Fitz as the dream told her needed to be told that she and her husband might meet the same fate as the dead man in her vision.
CHAPTER 1
The minute Gerry and I boarded the Air Canada flight at Pearson we, shall I say I knew trouble was afoot on our Caribbean vacation. We had been saving for this trip since I finished my first year of college and Gerry, my sweet adorable hunk of a husband decided I deserved a trip south for graduating with honors. The man must have been clairvoyant as I did exactly that. More about my last year later.
The trouble that I spoke of earlier went by the name Donovan Mitchell and his newlywed bride Rebecca as we would refer to as Becky on the island. Obnoxious was a fitting word for Donovan. Even before the plane took off the attendants had told him he needed to be quiet. If this was any indication of his behavior it was going to be a bumpy ride for sure.
About half way through the five hour flight south we hit a mad patch of turbulence and Donovan chose to start screaming that we were all going to die. Gerry muttered something under his breath about “not all of us”. Just then a Jamaican woman yelled “Don’t ya make me come back there mon. Stop your caterwauling or me slap you so hard your next three generations will feel it!”
I thought Donovan was going to undo his seat belt against orders and go at the woman but a burley flight attendant stopped him. Don’t do it mon, that woman, she from my village she knows voodoo she can curse you so bad you’ll still be screamin’ when you’re dead. I have seen her do it trust me and sit down. Donovan thankfully saw reason and sat still til the turbulence was over. We removed our seatbelts and I made for the washrooms as sitting still while being jolted around made me need to pee and barf. I hope they had sick bags in the can. When I got back they were once again serving beverages and passing out snacks. I declined the chips but requested a ginger ale and took a gravol. All the way through the turbulence I white knuckled the arm rest and prayed for salvation and I could have sworn I heard my husband praying as well.
Before we knew it we were circling Montego Bay preparing for a landing I had the window seat and caught the beautiful blue sky and the turquoise blue bay and a ribbon of sandy beaches. My toes were itching in my sandals to go running through the surf. The last vacay Gerry and I took was our honey moon in Florida. We caught some beach time in between running from killer Nascar racers and a creepy cop who later redeemed himself by turning on his brother inlaw Killer T. Ford. Dave Meecham and I still conversed via snail and e-mail and I now consider him a friend, so what if he’s in the slammer.
We were ready disembark when the door to the plane opened. All I could hear was Donovan exclaiming loudly “Look at all the freakin palm trees!” The very same attendant who had talked him down from his rant rolled his eyes and muttered “tourists”. I stifled a laugh as I remembered my first palm tree sighting two years ago.
We tipped the sky caps after having gone through customs. I could see Donovan and Becky at a checkpoint. Donovan was arguing with the customs agent who was rifling through their luggage and holding up a thong and comment on how he hoped it was the lady’s attire not his. Donovan is a wiry guy with not so much muscle tone. I couldn’t see him pulling off such a brief suit without the six pack to go with it. I thought of the time I wanted to buy Gerry a thong. He refused as he didn’t want to resemble a sumo wrestler added to the fact that no one was laying their eyes on his ample assets.
After passing customs without any searches we boarded a hotel bus which would take us to the Sandals resort. Here’s where I hoped we would part company with the Mitchells but no such luck was to be had. The van driver looked at them with all their bags and shook his head muttering about this was not going to be a fun ride and threatened to make Donovan ride on top of the van to make room for the crap. Donovan waved a Canadian five spot to make everything fit in the van. The driver whose name was Frankie’s attitude changed with the presentation of what equalled twenty dollars Jamaican currency. Suddenly everything was irie and the Mitchells boarded the bus.
Once we arrived at the resort I was immediately taken in by the lush décor of the place. Small palms and arrangements of tropical flowers throughout the atrium of the resort. Our rooms weren’t quite ready so we were able to sit in the hotel bar until our names were called. I was in the middle of drinking a tropical treat called a “Dirty Banana” my cell beeped at me. It was a text from Cheryl: PREGNANT YET—JUST KIDDING.
I texted back NOT FUNNY CHER!
It was a private joke between me and my sisters about how mom was on our cases constantly to provide her with grand children. As Cher and Eddie each had two Gerry and I were in the hot seat to go forth and multiply. I had had a false alarm last year and had asked mom to lay off her campaign to fill her small house with crying children as if we three hadn’t been enough. What Cheryl and our older sister Eddie had told me repeatedly that her reign of terror would only end in the delivery room. Cheryl was just trying to spook me.
Chapter 2
Once we were all settled in our suite we took one look at our king sized bed and decided it needed to be christened immediately. We set a record removing each other’s clothes but hey that’s part and parcel of being on vacation. It may even be construed as our second honey moon so we acted on it. We must have romped for nearly two hours followed by a nap. I woke up with the sudden urge to hit the pristine pool and woke Gerry to join me. After cajoling him for what seemed like a half hour he acquiesced and joined me pool side. After a refreshing swim we bellied up to the bar for another drink. Soon we realized that happy hour was started back to the room to get dressed for that and the buffet.
I was dressed in an ankle length orange and pink sheath and sandals with silver jewelry to match my hair was in a casual updo. My handsome hunk was wearing stone coloured cargos and a fashionable Hawaiian shirt. I wanted to take him back to bed but my stomach was growling for Caribbean delicacies.
Wow was not the word when we approached the buffet. Platters of jerk chicken, Steak and peppers, curried goat and Jamaica’s signature dish ackee and salt fish which is basically cod. Along with that came fried plantain and rice with black-eyed peas. We sampled everything and commented on our favorites. Several other couples joined us at the round table. Most of them were newlyweds but Sheila and Steve were older than us and were enjoying a holiday without the kids as there last son had just moved out for college. Donovan and Becky sat at the next table by themselves. Donovan was ranting about something already and Becky was attempting to mollify him. I hoped to heck it wasn’t their honeymoon as I don’t think Becky was getting her money’s worth.
After dinner we went upstairs to freshen up before going back down for the floor show. I heard a ruckus from the next room. The couple was arguing over something. It was loud enough for the whole floor to hear. I wanted to see if they needed help but I promised myself and more importantly Gerry that I was not going to get up in anyone’s beeswax on this trip. He was very close to make me sign a contract in blood to that fact. So true to my promise I reapplied my face, freshened my hair and we joined our table mates for the evening’s entertainment.
The music was a mix of reggae, calypso and salsa for those who wanted to dance. Bob Marley music was a big hit as he was a native son to the island. Halfway through the show Donovan and Becky came in and sat at the back near the doors of the atrium. Gerry and I danced as did the others but Donovan I noticed never once asked his wife to get up on the floor. I had to wonder what the hell the guy’s problem was not really paying much attention to such a beautiful woman. If that had been Gerry he and I would have had serious words by now.
Gerry and I decided at one point to take a break and go for a walk on the beach. I was tempted to go swimming in the surf au naturel but there were sentries on the beach and I was feeling modest, instead we just walked along the shore listening to the waves washing up on the beach. We had removed our shoes and let the wet sand squish between our toes as the warm breeze kissed our arms. We stopped and kissed.
“Thanks for this trip Gerry it was just what I needed.”
“Anything for you cookie.”
We kissed more which brought on urges to cut the party short. We went back to the table to say our goodnights. We didn’t need to feign tiredness as most of them probably thought the same thing.
We walked past Donovan and Becky when Donovan shouted to Gerry to show me who the man of the family was.
“What was that?” Gerry stopped short in front of the man. He dared Donovan to repeat his quip with a scathing look. I dearly hoped neither man would get in each other’s faces and alert security. The last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night in paradise in the Jamaican pokey.
Donovan just looked at my husband who stood a few inches taller and could probably bench press him quite easily.
“Never mind man looks like you have your situation under control.”
“Good thinking friend” Gerry replied. “Might be a good idea to take care of your girl.”
With that we went upstairs to continue the afternoon’s activities.
