Solving a Murder

Bumps came into Jumpy's bar on John's Lane.
Before he ordered the first shot, asked; "Where the gals deh?"

Jumpy didn't answer. He served the drink, went back to what he'd been doing.
He had what one could call a slow brain.

It was the next day Jumpy noticed the whores weren't standing around his bar. Whores had always stood around the bar.
Now there wasn't a single one.

He asked Hortense, who cleaned the bar, where the 'ladies' were.

She, one of those mock Christians went on and on and on about 'nasty gals', until Jumpy told her to shut up or she was fired.

Everyone heard her talking about females with no morals, and everyon suddenly noticed that there weren't any females with no morals anywhere around Jumpy's bar.

This is why, when the Police found the first body, somewhere off Bournmouth beach, everyone decided it had to be one of the whores who worked John's Lane although the body was pretty much decomposed.

My office was in an older building with the entrance on East Street and a back gate that opened onto John's Lane.

This meant we'd drive up John's Lane, make a racket of shouting and beeping horns until eventually Slugs opened the Back Gate.

Slugs lived on the premises. Lived in a semi finished office block which fronted John's Lane.

Most common this kind of live in job is given to old men.

Slugs had just turned forty.
It always struck me strange a guy like him would be the caretaker and live in a
back room.

I also must admit, I always found him kind of peculiar.

Any time anyone requested that Slugs perform a task, instead of responding or moving, he'd have this long pause.

It seemed he'd count to fifty before making any move. (I actually tested it, which is where I got the number 'fifty.')

Most people would lose their tempers dealing with Slugs so asked others, even going out on the road to find someone, because something was wrtong with Slugs.

Another thing I found so odd was how he would wash, not his hands, but all the way up his arms. It would be at least two minutes of washing, caressing his arms.

As he used the outside sink I could see him, as could others.

I once asked Chantel, a secretary, if she'd noticed this. Oddly she had.

"The way he caresses his arms when he washes them, it creeps me out."

Big Suze, who was the cleaner and lived about four blocks away, knew everything. When she wassked about Slugs she could give a biography, including the fact that he didn't have a girlfriend, he bought whores.

It was strange to see a forty year old guy, who didn't look that bad, who had to pay for sex.

So when the rumour about the Jumpy girls being killed began racing up the Lane and Big Suze carried it into the office, I made the link.

The police found another body about a mile from the first. Decomposed, unindentified.

As everyone was now assuming she had been a Jumpy girl they marched to the morgue,(which was about eight blocks away), and Wisker was sure that it was Zinni.

Zinni was one of the females who could be seen, if anyone had looked, lurking
around the Lane. She was big and fat and loud and always dressed in the most
lewd fashion.

Considering the body was nude, and fairly unrecognisable no one could be sure
if that was Zinni. However, they decided it was and people came out of the
woodwork to admit their relationship, whether cousin or neice or uncle.

We didn't have much of a Forensic department, this wasn't CSI. Our investigators wouldn't know DNA from GPS. They'd have to send for someone, and would the expense be justifiable?

Hence, the cops decided; you want to call the corpse Zinni, go ahead.

When the third body was found, about six miles from the first, but along Glasspole
Highway, (which ran the same coast the others bodies had been found), it was
now front page news.

The luck came in that a real live Forensic guy who actually worked in Miami,
(Not Horatio Caine) offered to help.

This wasn't entirely altruistic.

Fortunately, for the Jamaican Constabulary Force, there was a real live Forensic Expert.

He and his wife were having a second honeymoon at a pricey hotel.

If the government would pick up the tab, give him an extension on his VISA, he'd be happy to assist.

As the murders were Front Page, as the guy was from 'foreign', the government scraped some pennies together and gave him the go ahead.

Although I was alert, I saw no change in Slugs.

I tried to get a bit of conversation but outside of greetings and one word answers, he didn't have much of a vocabulary.

The Forensic guy decided that due to the heavy rains, a number of bodies which had been buried off the Highway had washed out to sea.

But as there wasn't much tide in the Harbour they didn't go very far.

Mr. CSI drove along the Highway followed by a TV team. He indicated many places where a car could pull off the road onto the grassy banks, stop, bury a body behind the bushes in the soft sand, and drive away, unseen.

This kind of discouraged my confidence that Slugs was the murderer. He didn't own a car. He had a bicycle.

Considering the location of the office and where the bodies were found between
two and eight miles away, and that John's Lane emptied in East Queen Avenue, which was a main thoroughfare, transportation by bicycle wasn't likely..

I was about to write Slugs off as the culprit, until I learned that he used to drive a cab.

Meanwhile, another body was found in the same area. This one had purple hair. And everyone on John's Lane knew that Fara, one of Jumpy's girls, had dyed her hair purple.

I drove out of the office to a police station some distance away and spoke to an officer in the presence of others; telling him about Slugs.

The murder were not in the station's jurisdiction, nor was the officer in homicide. He told me which Police Station to go to, who to speak to, blah blah.

I nodded, and left, but had no intention of doing anything else.

I knew that one of the cops who heard me discuss Slugs would contact someone. Eventually someone would check it out.

In this way, I would have no connection to Slugs, the Police, the Crime, and be relatively safe.

In a few days undercover cops reached the office. They went around to the back, where Slugs was.

I kept working until everyone in the building began erupting as Slugs was removed in handcuffs.

Later I learned the cops had found female clothing in Slug's room. And the keys to a car.

I didn't get or want any credit for 'solving' the case. That went to some police office who heard my supposition from another police officer,

The 'hero' claimed to have 'information' and did 'investigations' and collected 'evidence' and located a 'suspect'.

It really wasn't rocket science.

Slugs was the most ignorable person. The only reason we knew he existed is because he was to open the gate to let us park inside.

If I hadn't a car I parked inside the compound, I wouldn't be aware of him.

Besides the clothing, he'd kept the keys to the taxi which was parked at the all night gas station nearby.

The big News was that the owner of the building where our offices were, the guy who'd given Slugs the job, turned out to be Slug's father.

Slugs was the product of a quickie between Mr. --- and a whore on John's Lane.

The father had 'tried' with Slugs, but he wasn't intellectually capable. He didn't have the skill nor ability nor interest to do more than be a handyman/caretaker.

Everyone on the Lane had a 'Slug' story.
Everyone now claimed to have 'known' it had to be him.

After a few days, the excitement settled down.

An old man called Brownie took Slug's place.

The difference between Slugs and Brownie, among other things, was that the opened the Gate within 20 seconds of the beep and didn't wash his arms for
two minutes.