Miss Icy Delight leaves Savanna-la-mar every morning at seven sharp, candy-pink and gold-lettered, tassels swinging, radio blasting, bound for Mandeville by way of Whitehouse, Bluefields, Black River, and Santa Cruz. It's the same run it's made for years, higglers hollering through the windows, church women fanning themselves with borrowed programs, schoolboys sent alone to granny's house, and a conductor who knows every pothole on the road by name. >Juicy, shocking, and steeped in patois, fish tea, church fans, and duppy stories, Pon Di Bus is a whodunit that could only happen pon a coaster bus, parish to parish, one stop at a time, a beach read with bite.
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