sun and the planets, and after he died if felt as if we no longer had his gravitational force around us to hold us together. Everyday we were together I remember a sense of anticipation and wonderment at what lay ahead, but after his death those hopeful days began to diminish as if our world had stopped turning and we were now stuck on the edge of an eternal night, locked in a phased elliptical orbit on the dark side of a place I thought I might never escape.
Eventually I learned a lesson from what happened to our family after my grandfather died, a lesson that clearly my father had learned along the way as well. I would honor his life and the lessons he tried to teach me by living my life to the fullest, the way he did.
Bottom line, if my father wanted to date another woman, who was I to judge?
A few minutes later I got up and put my rum behind the bar, and moved down next to Carol. We watched each other in the mirror for a few seconds, and then I turned on my stool so I could face her and said, “I’m Mason’s son, Virgil. Everyone calls me Jonesy. You must be Carol.” I smiled when I said it though I really didn’t intend to.
As the night went on I worked the bar with my dad but neither one of us had much to say to the other about a shared loss we continue to grieve in very different ways, which is, as I suspect, the way it should be. We had a decent crowd, and our band brought the house down with their original and covered Reggae. With two hours to go until closing my father took off his apron and walked over to where I stood and ruffled the hair on top of my head like I was still a little boy. “See you tomorrow, Son.”
I watched him and Carol as they walked out the door, then took my shot glass of Rum from the drip tray where I had left it earlier in the evening, held it up for a second and then drank it down. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”
Delroy walked over and put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Your father…he loves you, no?” He patted me twice on the chest then went back to work, singing along with the band, his voice carrying across the bar. A few minutes later he looked over at me and smiled, still singing, and just for a moment I could have sworn I was looking at my grandfather.
Half an hour later Miles, Donatti, and Rosencrantz came in and took a table in the back. I drew two pitchers of Red Stripe, placed them on a tray with four frosted mugs and joined them at the table.
“Alright,” I said. What have we got so far? Ron?”
“Well,” Ron said as he took a long pull of beer, then let a small belch escape his mouth, “to put it as professionally as possible, we ain’t got dick.”
We all sat with that for a moment. “He’s right,” Donatti said. “We got nothing on the canvass from this morning out at Dugan’s. The houses are all too isolated, and well, hell, Jonesy, you know that crowd. They’re good people and all, but when you’ve got that kind of jack, unless you’re at one of those fancy social functions, everyone keeps to themselves. And besides, it was just early enough that most of the husbands were gone, the wives weren’t up and the help hadn’t arrived. All in all, I’d say that whoever did this had it pretty well planned out.”
“What about the print off of the shell casing?”
“Blank. Who ever it was, they’ve never been printed.”
“So,” Miles said. “I stand by my original statement. We ain’t got shit.”
“You said ‘dick’ the first time,” Rosencrantz said.
Miles looked out over the top of his glasses. “I’m pretty sure I said ‘shit.’
“No, no,” Donatti said. “He’s right, you said ‘dick.’ I heard it.”
“Yep,” Rosie said. “I think you’ve got dick on the brain. Is there something you’d like to talk about?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Miles.
Put four cops around a pitcher of beer, I thought, and this is what you get. “Maybe we could stick to what’s important here?” I said. “Rosie, do you have anything at all?”
“Yeah, your sign’s wrong. The food’s good. And the beer is ice cold too.”
“Tell me again why I hired you.”
“My superior investigative skills.”
I stood from the table. “Work it out, guys. We need leads and I want a plan of action by tomorrow morning. The Governor and the press are going to be breathing down our necks, so let’s show ‘em something.”
As I walked away I heard Rosie tell Miles again that he was positive he’d said ‘dick.’
Twenty minutes later I was ready to pack it in for the night. I told Delroy I hoped to see him tomorrow, but I couldn’t be sure.
‘Dat alright, mon. Every ting come in its own time, no?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“Your father, he worries about you.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, mon. Of course dat’s right. He wants you here, run the bar wid ‘im. Safer for you here, you know what I mean?”
“He’s never said anything like that to me, Delroy.”
Delroy laughed. “Yeah mon, you two a couple of talkers, you are.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“Hey, what do I know? Probably not my bidness anyway, mon.” He nodded over my shoulder toward the front entrance of the bar. “Dat probably not my bidness either, but here come your woman.”
I turned and looked around just as Sandy slid onto a stool next to me. She wore a loose blue halter dress that hung almost to the middle of her thighs and a pair of platform sandals.
“Delroy,” Sandy said, her hand over her heart, “that voice of yours melts me every time I hear it.” Then to me: “Buy a girl a drink?”
I leaned over the bar and drew two Red Stripes from the tap. My eyes met Sandy’s in the bar mirror and I thought they were about the sexiest damn eyes I’ve ever seen. Ever. I set the mugs down and took a seat next her. “You don’t look too worse for wear. How you holding up?”
Instead of answering me right away, Sandy took three long drinks from her mug and set the half empty glass back down on the bar. Then she turned her head and saw the rest of the investigative team at the table in back. She looked back at me, picked up my mug and started toward the back.
“Hey, where are you going?” I said.
She stopped and turned back. “Gonna see what’s shaking back there. I love working for you, Jonesy. Have I told you that yet? But I’m either in or I’m out, you know what I mean?”
I thought her eyes were made of liquid blue. “Sandy, it’s not that.”
“It’s not what?”
“Well, it’s not…uh, well, hell, I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I just sort of thought-“
Sandy walked toward me and leaned in close, her mouth right next to my ear. “I know what you thought, Jonesy.” She kissed me on the cheek, then leaned away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Then, almost as an after thought, “You look pretty good your damn self.”
I watched her cross the bar. So did everyone else in the room.
I moved behind the bar and pulled Delroy aside. “A minute ago you said something.”
“What’s that, mon? Delroy always saying one ting or another, no?”
“When Sandy came in. You said, ‘here comes your woman.’
Delroy laughed and shook his head. “I also say it probably not my bidness.”
“Yeah, you did. But she’s not my woman. She just works for me.”
“Yeah, mon. Dat’s all right. You keep telling yourself dat.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Delroy put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m just a happy go lucky Jamaican bartender. What do I know?”
I scratched the back of my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Hah. I tink you do. I grew up wid my family, you know? We live right by the beach. When I was little, after
