The Blood Red Indian Summer

by David Handler

  Mitch turned onto Old Shore Road and started his way home. “You mean The Glass Menagerie?”

  “That’s the one. And kindly take the surprise out of your eyes. It so happens I majored in Performing Arts at Clemson—until they threw my ass out. That’s a fine old house those ladies have. Real shame it’s gotten so run down. I was able to fix a few things for them. The neighborhood where I grew up? You either do your own repairs or they don’t get done.”

  “Did you get rid of that smell in their kitchen?”

  “What smell?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “I had no cause to hit Mr. Lash last night. It was a dumb move on my part. Guess I’ve just been living with too much drama for too long. That’s life when you’re in Tyrone Grantham’s world. Drama twenty-four/seven. But I got to tell you—I’ve never known Rondell to take a drink. I doubt he even knows how to hold it.”

  “He doesn’t, trust me.”

  “Poor little man’s like a sad-eyed puppy around that girl. And she don’t even know he’s alive. I keep telling him to forget about her and have himself some F-U-N. Like last night. There was dozens of tasty young sisters in itty-bitty thongs out there by the pool. None of them Wharton graduates, I’ll grant you. But who cares once you’re between the sheets, know what I’m saying? I begged him to come on out and grab himself some. He wouldn’t. Just sat there in his office working on his computer and pining away over that teenager playing her piano across the hall. Totally pathetic if you ask me. She’s just a kid. I mean, yeah, she has ridiculous musical talent. But she’s just a sheltered little schoolgirl. Jamella makes sure of that. Won’t let no man near her.”

  “Kinitra didn’t have a boyfriend this summer in Glen Cove?”

  “Boyfriend?” Clarence gaped at Mitch incredulously. “What boyfriend?”

  “A college football player from Georgia named Lonnie Berryman.”

  “Who, Raymond’s friend? Yeah, I remember Lonnie. Stayed at Raymond’s house for a few days. Nice enough dude. Really likes him to party.”

  “Did he party with Kinitra?”

  “Why, is she saying he’s the baby’s father?”

  “She’s saying they had something going on.”

  “That’s news to me. I never even saw the two of them talking to each other. Jamella don’t allow it, like I said.”

  “Is it possible Jamella didn’t know?”

  “Anything’s possible, but Jamella’s very protective. Hell, if you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have sworn to you up, down and sideways that Kinitra was still a solid gold virgin.” Clarence’s face dropped. “But she’s been with somebody, that’s for sure.”

  “Who else could it have been? If it wasn’t Lonnie, I mean.”

  “Don’t be looking at me, man. I’ve made some mistakes in my life but I ain’t that kind of dumb.”

  Mitch took the fork that led into the Nature Preserve, slowing as he left the smooth pavement for the narrow, bumpy dirt road. “How much did Tyrone tell you about Kinitra’s condition?”

  “She’s pregnant is all I know.”

  “The trooper tells me certain things in confidence.…”

  Clarence studied him curiously. “What things?”

  “Kinitra’s claiming that she’s been in a consensual relationship,” Mitch said. “But she’s all scarred up down there. The sex has been very, very rough. She says she likes it that way. Do you buy that?”

  “No way. She’s strictly the dreamy romantic type. Love songs. Nothing but love songs.” Clarence fell into thoughtful silence for a moment before he said it again. “No way.”

  Mitch approached the bluffs now and pulled up at the barricade next to Rondell’s Porsche.

  Clarence didn’t budge. Just sat there looking across the water at Big Sister Island. “She picked herself a nice spot to wash up.”

  “She was very lucky. Next time she might not be.”

  “Next time?”

  “People who want to kill themselves usually keep trying.”

  “You think that little girl tried to kill herself?”

  “I don’t have a doubt in my mind.”

  Clarence ran a hand over his face. “Man, that is so wrong. She’s truly gifted. If she ended her own life, it would be a horrible crime.”

  “You can do something about it, you know.”

  “Me? What can I do?”

  “Tell me who’s been raping her.”

  “I think we’re all done here.” Clarence abruptly opened his door and climbed out, slamming it shut. But then he lingered there by the open window, jangling Rondell’s car keys in his hand. “What was Rondell drinking?”

  “Grey Goose. A whole bottle of it.”

  “I’ve never seen him down more than a half a beer. Poor little man’s totally blown away, I guess. He’s so loyal to his brother. Tyrone is everything to him. That’s why he can’t deal with the plain truth of it.”

  Mitch leaned across the seat toward him. “Which is?…”

  Clarence gazed out at the water for a long time before he turned back to Mitch and said, “The big dog takes what the big dog wants. Law of the jungle, man. Always has been. Always will be.”

  CHAPTER 11

  THERE WAS A WHITE Escalade parked in her driveway when Des got home. When she went inside the house she heard voices out on the back deck. Found the Deacon seated out there at the umbrella table having lemonade with Jamella and her father, Calvin. The Deacon had already gotten dressed for dinner with the Bergers in his customary charcoal flannel suit, crisp white dress shirt and muted tie. It was the first time Des had seen him wearing normal clothes since his surgery and it thrilled her beyond belief. Calvin had on a No. 54 Tyrone Grantham football jersey and a showy oyster gray cowboy hat with a feather stuck in its band. Kid Rock sat in his lap padding at his big belly. Jamella was dressed in the same yellow shift that she’d been wearing all day long. She looked wilted, bleary eyed and distraught. Her lower lip was fastened so firmly between her teeth that it was a wonder she didn’t draw blood.

  “Ah, here she is,” the Deacon said brightly as Des joined them. “I told you she’d be right on time. If there’s one thing I taught Desiree it was punctuality.” He not only looked like his old self, he seemed much more animated and engaged.

  A few kayakers were out on Uncas Lake enjoying the late day warmth. Thin gray clouds were moving in, dimming the hazy sunlight a bit.

  Des sat down at the table and said, “How may I help you folks?”

  “Not so much me, miss,” Calvin responded politely. “It’s my oldest girl Jamella here. She wanted to speak with you on your home turf. Got herself a bit emotional after what’s happened to our little girl Kinitra.” He paused so that Jamella could take it from there. She just sat there in guarded silence, so he kept on going. “I felt she was too upset to drive over here by herself, especially being seven months along. So I offered to drive her.” He sipped his lemonade, his face creasing with concern. “It turns out I’m an even worse father to my girls than I thought. Little Kinitra’s got herself pregnant, too. And here I’ve been under the same roof this whole time and didn’t even know anything was going on.”

  “Nobody did,” Jamella said in a muted voice. “Don’t blame yourself, Popsy.”

  “I wanted to visit her up at that hospital,” Calvin added. “But Jamella said Kinitra don’t want to see nobody or talk to nobody. You think she’ll be coming home soon, miss?”

  Des nodded. “Assuming she doesn’t develop a lung infection.”

  “I imagine she needs a little time alone to sort this whole business out, too.” Calvin let out a huge sigh. “I sure wish her mama was still around. She made sure both of my girls were quality young ladies. And they never gave her no cause to worry. Got good grades. Came right home when she told them to. My girls knew better than to hang around on street corners with trash. I’m the one was always in trouble,” he confessed. “But those days are behind me now.”

  “That’s right, Popsy,” Jam
ella said reassuringly.

  Des glanced over at the Deacon. His face revealed nothing. Never did. “So what did you want to talk to me about, Jamella?”

  “I just thought that, I mean, I wanted to…” She broke off with a ragged sob. “God, this was a terrible idea. We should just go, Popsy. Stop bothering these people.”

  “You’re not bothering us. What’s this about?”

  Jamella reached for her lemonade and took a small sip, the glass shaking in her hand.

  “She’s gotten herself all worked up,” Calvin explained. “Wondering if it could be her Tyrone who fathered Kinitra’s baby.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t,” Jamella insisted. “I’m just wondering—which I know is so unbelievably terrible. Not to trust the man who I love. But knowing what I know about his life before we met. All of those other women having his babies and…” She bit down hard on her lower lip again, her eyes puddling with tears.

  “She did speak to Tyrone about it,” Calvin said. “The man swore to her he’s never touched Kinitra. But I could still see the doubt in her eyes. So I said, let’s go talk to the resident trooper about it. She’s investigating the case. She knows facts, not fears.”

  “Speaking of facts…” The Deacon gazed at Des with chilly disapproval. “I understand from Jamella that Lieutenant Yolanda Snipes and Sergeant Toni Tedone of the Major Crime Squad have launched a criminal investigation.”

  “That’s correct,” Des said, meeting his stern gaze before she turned back to Jamella. “Do you honestly believe Tyrone is capable of doing something like this?”

  Jamella shook her head. “I don’t know. I-I just don’t…”

  Calvin put his hand over hers. “Now don’t get all upset again. Just ask the lady what you came here to ask her.”

  Jamella took another sip of her lemonade, her hand a bit steadier now. “I was wondering if Tyrone is a target of your investigation.”

  “Technically? No. Because, technically, no crime has been committed.”

  “How can you say that?” Calvin demanded. “Kinitra was raped.”

  “She insists she wasn’t.”

  “But you know she was!” Now Calvin was the one getting worked up. “Jamella said the doctors found awful scars and suchlike.”

  “Kinitra’s still your little girl,” the Deacon put in, his voice calm and gentle. “But as far as the law is concerned, she’s a grown woman. If she says no crime took place then no crime took place. We see this all too often with domestic abuse cases. A neighbor will call us up and tell us that the man in the apartment next door is beating the heck out of his wife. We get there and the wife’s bleeding from the mouth and nose, her eye swollen half shut. She assures us she’s perfectly fine. Just fell down in the park while she was walking her dog. And there’s not a thing we can do.”

  “That’s c-crazy!” Calvin sputtered in disbelief.

  “That’s the law,” Des said. “But I promise you we’re trying to find out what happened.”

  Calvin studied her from across the table. “You’re going the extra mile for my girl, aren’t you? You’ve got them investigating this thing even though she don’t want you to. How come, miss?”

  “Because she’s afraid.”

  “You mean afraid of Tyrone?”

  “I don’t have anything concrete to implicate Tyrone at this point,” she replied. Meanwhile thinking that Calvin wasn’t exactly steering her away from Tyrone. Possibly the man knew something more. Something he wasn’t willing to spill in front of Jamella. “Where is Tyrone?”

  “He was lifting with Clarence when we left,” Jamella said. “That’s what he does when he’s upset.”

  “Does he know that you’ve come here?”

  She shook her head. “I told him we were going out for ice cream.”

  “And what about Rondell?”

  “Working in his office, I imagine. I never know where he is. Rondell’s got to be the quietest man I’ve ever met. Tyrone says he’s been that way since they were boys and Chantal was into the drugs and all. Tyrone coped with it by getting so strong nobody could hurt him. Rondell shrank into the corner and got quieter.” She hesitated before she added, “He has a crush on Kinitra. I mean, it’s pretty obvious. But he’d never get rough with her. He has no meanness in him.”

  “Yes, he does,” the Deacon countered. “We all do—if we’re riled a certain way.”

  “True enough,” Calvin concurred, drinking down the last of his lemonade. “And you never know what’ll set somebody off. I’ve seen men get shanked in the yard over a danged candy bar.”

  “What about Clarence?” Des asked Jamella. “Is he someone who we should be looking at?”

  “Clarence has a big mouth. But he’s a decent person deep down. Besides, he’s got hot skanks coming and going. What does he need my baby sister for?”

  “Maybe he’s in love with her.”

  “Not so I’ve noticed. Have you, Popsy?”

  “No, can’t say as I’ve ever gotten that particular vibe off of cousin Clarence. He does spend a lot of hours with Kinitra in the recording studio. I hear them lipping away at each other all of the time. But he’s strictly, you know, playful with her. Like she’s his own kid sister.”

  Des found her thoughts straying to someone else who might know something—Chantal. She figured nothing went on there that Chantal didn’t know about. But she also felt certain that Chantal would never say one bad word about either of her sons. “I just realized I’m being a terrible hostess. I haven’t offered you folks more lemonade. I could go for a glass myself. Jamella, would you mind giving me a hand?”

  “You sit, girl,” Calvin said. “I’ll help her out.”

  “That’s okay, Popsy. If I don’t keep moving around I feel like a beached whale.” Jamella got herself up and followed Des inside with their empty glasses, leaving the two men out on the deck. “Girl, this is a real nice place you’ve got here. You must feel so proud owning your own home.”

  “Yes, I do.” Des pulled the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and refilled their glasses. Found a glass for herself and filled that, too. She took a sip, lingering there in the kitchen with Tyrone Grantham’s pregnant wife. “Excuse me for asking but has Tyrone ever gotten rough with you?”

  “You mean like slapped me around? No, never. I’d never let any man put his hands on me that way. I’ve got too much respect for myself.”

  Des took another sip of her lemonade. Out on the deck, the Deacon and Calvin were talking softly. “Why are you really here, Jamella? What’s bothering you? You can trust me. I won’t tell a soul.”

  Jamella gazed at Des imploringly. “Word?”

  “Word.”

  “I’m here…” She hesitated, swallowing. “Because I love Tyrone to death except I don’t know if I trust him. And that’s so messed up. I mean, how can you love a man and yet not be sure about him?”

  “Easiest thing in the world. I did exactly that for three years with my ex-husband,” Des told her, having learned one simple truth long ago: When it comes to confiding, you need to give some to get some. “I even took him back again a few months ago—even though the bastard had cheated on me the whole time we were married and lied to my face about it. Didn’t matter. When it comes to men the heart wants what it wants and the head gets a great big dose of stupid. Hell, I actually convinced myself it would all be different this time.”

  Jamella’s eyes searched hers. “And it wasn’t?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “How about Mitch?” she asked. “Do you trust him?”

  “Yes, I do. I feel safe with him. How do you feel with Tyrone?”

  “I don’t know what I feel,” Jamella answered wearily. “He’s never been anything but a perfect gentleman the whole time we’ve been together. But these stories about other women keep dogging him. Like this whole Stewart Plotka mess. Tyrone keeps telling me, ‘Baby, I don’t even know who Katie O’Brien is.’ And I’ve been believing him.
But that man showed up outside our house today with a blouse of hers he says has Tyrone’s stuff on it. And now my own baby sister is pregnant. And, suddenly, I don’t know who to believe anymore. I feel like such a horrible person. But I want to know—really know—that it wasn’t him who went after Kinitra. Can you understand that?”

  “I totally can. And I don’t think you’re a horrible person. You’re just watching out for yourself. I respect that. Now I need for you to respect me. Give us some time to do what we do. We’ll find out what really happened, okay?”

  Jamella thought this over for a moment before she nodded and said, “Okay.”

  Then they returned back outside to the deck.

  “What you two ladies been jawing about in there?” Calvin asked them.

  “I was just assuring Jamella that we’ll figure out who the man is,” Des answered. “And deal with him.”

  “It’s me who he’s got to deal with,” Calvin said in a low, menacing voice. “Kinitra’s my little angel. No thug’s going to treat her like trash and get away with it. He’ll pay, all right, but not your kind of justice. My kind.”

  “Don’t go making threats in front of us,” the Deacon said to him. “Your girls need you to be around for them. Not back in lockup.”

  “You’re right about that, sir,” Calvin allowed. “But I just get so crazy when I think about it.”

  “Why don’t you two go get that ice cream?” Des suggested. “And then head on home and relax. There’s an officer at your front gate twenty-four hours a day. And I’m five minutes away.” She handed Jamella her business card. “My cell’s right there at the bottom. Call me day or night.”

  “Thank you,” Jamella said quietly. “And thank you, too, Mr. Mitry. Sorry to intrude on you like we did.”

  “You didn’t intrude,” the Deacon said. “The door’s always open.”

  Des showed Jamella and Calvin out. The Deacon was still seated there on the deck when she returned. “Thanks for playing host, Daddy. Just let me get out of this gunnysack and I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Not so fast, young lady,” he growled. “Get back out here and sit yourself down now!”