Nicole Dennis-Benn - Here Comes the Sun

Charles shakes his head and covers his face again. “There’s no proof. It ’appen years ago.” Verdene rubs his back, feels his muscles tense up again. “I can’t stay here,” he says suddenly. “I can’t stay in Rivah Bank. Ah must get going.” Verdene silently agrees, though she would never think of saying this out loud. She would have offered him a hiding place, but then she would have to explain to Margot when she drops by after her shift at the hotel and sees a boy — an alleged killer — inside the house. And besides, Margot can never be seen here by anyone. So Charles must go.

“At least change off first and eat something before you go,” Verdene tells him.

“Ah can’t eat anyt’ing.” He takes off his bloody shirt and puts on the one Verdene gives him. “Thank you for this,” he says, smoothing the fabric over his chest, his fingers trailing the University of Cambridge letters. He folds his soiled shirt, and Verdene offers to bury it outside, next to the dead dogs. She thinks of things to say to convince him that justice might still be on his side, but cannot come up with anything. “You must really love her. That girl?” she says as he heads toward the door. He pauses with his hand on the handle. The darkness is thick outside, since it’s overcast and there are no stars or a moon tonight. One would think it might finally rain; but Verdene won’t hold her breath. “Yes. I do,” Charles replies.

“I would’ve done the same thing,” she says.

Charles lets go of the knob. He leans against the doorpost and looks Verdene right in the eye. “Yuh know, ah used to be afraid ah witches.”

With that, he leaves her in the dark. She looks around the house. Not since she returned to it, wanting to be closer to her mother, has she felt so alone. How repelled she is tonight by the floors, the walls, the curtains, the burglar bars by the windows through which most days she can barely see the wide expanse of the sky.

ALPHONSO CALLS MARGOT TO THE VILLA, WHICH HAS BECOME their meeting place. Sweetness is with her, because she happens to be on the schedule for tonight’s soiree. But when they get there, the developers are frenzied. Alphonso is pacing, blowing cigarette smoke through his nostrils.

“What’s going on?” Margot asks Alphonso as soon as she enters.

“The fucking police.”

“Why are they involved?”

“A murder happened in the development area. They decided to shut down the whole fucking project until they find the killer. They think the activity from the construction could give the guy cover.”

“What?”

“We’re losing money, Margot. The longer the police make us wait as they investigate this crime, the more we suffer. Tourists aren’t going to want to come to a high-crime area. The investors are shitting themselves as we speak! I got a call from Virgil. He’s threatening to pull out.”

“Calm down, I can fix this.”

“How?” he almost shouts.

“Let me think.”

An idea, which was really a thought uttered too loudly, too prematurely, surfaces from Margot’s mouth; materializes into sound waves that halt the developers in the room, bringing them closer to the table where Margot sits. Alphonso too listens, his arms folded across his chest, visibly amused. “Where would we get the money to pay the reward?”

“We’re flush with cash, Alphonso, and you know it,” Margot says. “Sweetness alone is bringing in seven thousand a week. The other girls are just as profitable. We can do this.”

“So ten grand and we solve everything?” one of the developers asks.

“Yes, ten grand,” Margot replies. “I suggest we tell the constable about it so that he can relax his force. This money will have the residents of River Bank scouring every nook an’ cranny for the criminal. In the meantime, we send Sweetness to the police station.”

“Sweetness?” Alphonso asks. “Why Sweetness?”

“Because if you’re going to take over a quarter of the island, then you should at least be smart about it. Be nice to the police. They can be your biggest allies or worst enemies. Like women, they love it when you bring them gifts.”

The men in the room laugh. Alphonso laughs too.

“Margot, you’re brilliant,” he says.

···

Again people gather at Dino’s. There’s a search warrant for Charles and a prize of $10,000 in U.S. currency offered by the police department for the person who turns him over.

Word about the reward money spreads. No one knows why there’s such a high price to find a scrawny boy who killed a drunk in a bar fight. Macka thinks the money has to do with the development in the area. “Those developers don’t want no killah roaming ’bout di place. They want di worthy guests of dey hotel to be safe.”

Some men have already paid a visit to Miss Violet’s shack. They ransacked the place looking for Charles. The fact that they came in on a helpless woman means nothing to them; they were looking to fill pants pockets that only knew lint and loose change. They were already imagining the insides of airplanes and the promise of America. So when Miss Violet told them that she didn’t know where her son was, they grabbed her by the throat and pulled her hair. One drew a knife and the other one a rope. Her screams were heard only by Miss Ruby, who ran from her shack to find the woman tied up in her bed with cuts on her face.

Thandi is paralyzed with regret. She lies on the bed, curled up under the covers. She clutches the towel she never returned to Charles and sniffs it, trying to inhale the memory of him.

“But is what is dis?” Delores asks, standing over Thandi. “Me leave an’ yuh in bed. Me come back an’ yuh still in bed. Ah wah do yuh?”

Thandi shifts under the cover, quickly wiping away her tears. “Jus’ tired,” she says.

“Tyad? Somebody can tyad so long? Yuh don’t have nothing to do now the exams are finished? Get up!” Delores pulls the covers off Thandi. But Thandi doesn’t move. “If ah count to tree an’ yuh still lay dung, me will geet to yuh. Yuh know how much ah clock ah strike? Yuh have graduation rehearsal tomorrow, don’t?”

Delores starts to move around in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Thandi sits up in the bed.

“Bwoy, me ah tell yuh ’bout dem yout’ wid no ambition,” Delores says as she slices open the skin of a green banana and drops the skinned banana into the pot. “Membah Violet boy, Charles? Di ole brute who used to come ’roun here fah food? Him deh pon di wanted list now. Ten thousand U.S. dollah.” She whips around from the boiling pot to see if Thandi is listening. “Yuh hear? Ten thousand dollah! Yuh know wah dat can do?” She pauses as though Thandi is obligated to speak. When Thandi doesn’t reply, Delores answers her own question. “It can buy we nuff t’ings!” She returns to skinning bananas. “But ah feel so sorry fah Violet now. Di poor woman lose everyt’ing ’cluding all di screws in har head. But I can tell yuh one t’ing, though. If she tell di police where her son is, she will get di money an’ have a bettah life. True, true! She will be a rich woman if she send him to prison. Fah all di pain dat boy cause har. But dese hooligans ’roun here so hungry dat dem will t’ief it. Suh she should leave town an’ not tell ah soul. See how dey do har wah day? T’ink she would tell dem where him hiding?” Delores peers at Thandi when she whips around again. Her eyes narrow. “I know ’bout you two. John-John saw di both of ’oonuh in Sam Sharpe Square hugging up like lovers. Yuh t’ink me nuh ’ave eyes ’roun here? If yuh know where he is, yuh should call it in. Do it fah all ah we. Yuh know how long ah could use a break? Every single day me bruk me back wid dese damn baskets.”