Heads you lose-A Trinidad murder mystery based on true events of my past

 I lost a client when he lost his head.

(My last case before my headin’ down the straight and narrow and back to school - a mostly true story)

A long 21st century goodbye.  Moose Malloy style. 

I got a the message to drop the case on a mp4 file sent from Port of Spain by a scary dude who said he was part of the TuBox Gang. A Trini Youngun. 25, with eyes smouldering like pooled lava. 

“ Not doing Toronto. You are safe but not your Trini client. He’d better get his shit together. Fast. And remember his auntie and uncle are just a bullet spray away from where I am standing right now. No wall in this town can stop a MK47 burst.”

IT was a dark adventure. My last. And you’ve probably already guessed It didn’t go well. But hey, I am still breathing.

Of course there had been a murder. You can’t retell a who dunnit without a stiff.  A ghastly one at that. I had been trying to save a young man’s life through the power of the public relations. but, well let me get down to it.

I had a brain storm. I’d place positive front page stories in all three of the Port of Spain dailies saying that my client wasn’t a dirty rat. This should let him keep him his head.

Terrific stories. I should know, I wrote them all. Didn’t cost me much either but the concept failed. Turns out the TuBox Gang can’t read. But apparently someone in the posse spoke Face Book, Twitter, Tik Tok, and even Flickr. 

My late client. Let’s call him Joel, had just moved back to Trinidad, courtesy of the Canadian courts. 

He had left T&T with his family when he was just six. A family of five, they were all over-achievers …. except poor Joel. Doctor, lawyers and one accountant. They conquered Toronto. Joel, on the other hand lived to drink, smoke and fuck skanky women. He was very good at it. He had a whack of children courtesy of Wifey #1, #2 and #3,scattered about Toronto.

He was 30, handsome in a seedy film noire sort of way. Skinny. Red eyes. Tobacco stained fingers. 

The only time we meet, courtesy of Zoom, he had just staggered out of bed his wild Afro hair pointed more sidewise, then up.

Jane stayed in bed … he called all his ladies Jane … didn’t wear much more than a wrinkled and stained chamois. Liked to keep her bed clothes brief and easy to remove, her clients be they men or women or two at a time  seemed to like her whorhouse look. 

Her hair? The colour the week was purple, but -was sure to be different in a day or two.

My soon to-be-dead client was the runt of the litter. He was 8 years old when he arrived at Pearson with the clan

Went to school for a couple of years but didn’t much suit him. Girls. Now that was a different. Was a father by 16. Did the right thing.Married.  Didn’t much settle down, had another child by the neighbour next door

Was tossed out by Wifey #1. The blond bombshell next door wouldn’t take him in. 

 Wifey #2 took him to Wifey @3 who lived the local bordello and threw him and a suitcase out on the sidewalk in front.

Joel never got around to getting citizenship so when the police raided a whore house and found him living off the avails, he was promptly deported.

His cousin, a police woman in the ghetto in Port-of-Spain took him in and let him sleep on the porch. The brothers and sister paid the rent in American dollar. 

Back in Canada family member, a famous Toronto DJ  who he by day auditing millionaires for Revenue Canada hired me to help out.

Hired me. Why?  It wasn’t working out for Joel in T&T. He had been gone too long, he had left Trinidad too early.  A local gang had been rousted by the police just after Joel moved into the cop's T&T home.  The gang  believed a snitch in their midst. My client.

Write a story. Get some ink on the plight of a man who couldn’t come home. Maybe by getting the local Telegram to put “ am innocent face on the front page “ The gang might realize they had the wrong man. He wasn't a snitch, he was scum just like them.

The story appeared in paper, and on facebook, and the CBC International Service too picked it up. Was the lead story for a couple of weeks on their International service

I always say that everybody needs a PR agent, not this time, gang didn’t like the worldwide coverage,

Cut his head off. Live on Facebook.Lot of screaming. Even one of the bad guys vomited up a roti when they stacked his severed head on the fence post.

Two boxes at the funeral, one big, 

one small with a hat on top

I laughed when I saw it.

Client mad said I just laughed my fee out the door. Knew I wasn’t going to get paid. Story of my life.

Was in Trinidad a few months ago. Cabbing it 

into town on the Churchill-Roosevelt Highway from the airport. 

Gang pulled us over. First instinct was to block my neck.

No mas, we just want to apologize 

xffdsl wasn’t the snitch. It was his cousin.

What happened? Don’t ask, they said to me.  

But we want to make it up to you!

I hadn't  been paid caused I laughed at the funeral.

They nodded. Most righteous mistake. They handed me a stack of bills. Five thousand they said.

Cabby got me out of there with my head attached.

Had to settle with him for the car ride at the front doors of the airport terminal.  Checked with Google. Trini money isn’t worth much. Had to throw in some American greenbacks to pay off the meter and get a seat on the Toronto bound plane where I could once more apologize to Joel's family and do some serious praying for his lost soul  (but I never got around to it)