The Blood Red Indian Summer (18 page)

“Does she feel the same way about you?”

Rondell shook his head. “Not yet. She still thinks of me as someone who’s too serious for her. Bordering on dull. My brother keeps telling me to lighten up around her. Be more casual. He’s even taken to buying me hipper clothes. Tell me, is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rondell sat there on the sand, hugging his knees to his chest. “I realize she’s not going to fall for someone like me at this particular stage of her life. She’s about to become a huge singing star. She wants a handsome movie actor or professional athlete, not a glorified accountant. And I’m okay with that for now. I’ll be proud to manage her career for her. Keep her finances in order so she won’t get robbed blind like so many young performers do. And, over time, my hope is that she will eventually see me the same way I see her. I’m patient. I can wait for years if I have to. Because, for me, there’s no one else.” He let out a forlorn sigh. “My brother thinks I’m a fool. He’s had hundreds of women. Possibly even thousands. They literally throw themselves in his path at clubs, at parties, wherever he goes. Mind you, that was before he met Jamella. Now he has to toe the line. She makes sure he does. Watches his every move. Believe me, you do not want to piss that one off.”

“How about Clarence?”

Rondell looked at Mitch blankly. “What about him?”

“Does he think you’re a fool?”

“Cee aspires to nothing more than an endless parade of party skanks.”

“Has he ever shown any interest in Kinitra?”

Rondell shook his head. “She’s not his type. Besides, if he goes anywhere near her, Jamella will tell Tyrone to send him packing.”

“You say that Tyrone thinks you’re a fool for feeling like you do about Kinitra. But he’s a married man himself now, soon to become a father. Doesn’t he feel that way about Jamella?”

“Love her, you mean? No, that’s not actually possible. Tyrone doesn’t know how to place someone else’s happiness ahead of his own. He’s not made that way. Jamella is what you’d call a career move. His future in the NFL depends upon him proving to the commissioner that he has matured. And nothing says maturity like a wife and a child.”

“You make it sound awfully calculated.”

“Only because it is. I’m not being critical. I love my brother. But he is who he is. And I-I…” Rondell choked back a sob. “I don’t know
anything
.” He hiccoughed, his eyes twirling around in their sockets. “Mitch, I don’t feel so good.…”

*   *   *

A swarm of media people surrounded Stewart Plotka and Andrea Halperin as they stood outside the Grantham estate, holding their press conference. Andrea was waving an article of clothing for all of the cameras to see. It was red. A shirt or blouse.

Mitch had to honk at a dozen cameramen to move so he could pull into the driveway. Trooper Olsen was on duty there at the gate.

“What’s the earth-shattering news, Oly?”

“Plotka claims he has Katie O’Brien’s blouse with Grantham’s semen all over it. The lawyer’s demanding Grantham give up a DNA sample.” Trooper Olsen shook his head in disgust. “That Plotka comes off like a no-good shakedown artist.”

“Only because he is one.”

“But the insane thing is he could be telling the truth. Given Da Beast’s history with the ladies.”

“Yes, he could. I’m afraid there are no clear-cut heroes in this movie.”

Trooper Olsen peered across Mitch at his unconscious passenger. “Did Rondell get trashed or something?”

“Just had a bit of a shock. I didn’t think he should drive.”

The trooper opened the gate. Mitch drove on in and parked by the front door behind a black Escalade. He got out and rang the doorbell. No one answered it. He rang it again. Finally, he heard footsteps and the door was opened by the immensely fat Chantal Grantham. She had a Swiffer Duster in her right hand, a bucket of soapy water in her left hand and an intensely hostile expression on her face. A vacuum cleaner was running loudly in a nearby room.

“What do
you
want?” Chantal demanded. Before Mitch could respond, she turned around and hollered, “Don’t forget
under
the sofa cushions, too, Monique!” Then she turned back to him, eyeing him suspiciously. “Well?…”

“I’ve driven Rondell home, Mrs. Grantham.”

“Why you want to do that for? His Porsche break down?”

“His Porsche is fine, but he wasn’t in any shape to drive it.”

“He sick or something?”

“He’s passed out drunk.”

Chantal shook her head. “That can’t be. Rondell doesn’t care for alcohol. Never touches it.”

“Well, he touched it today.”

She glared at Mitch accusingly. “You got him drunk, didn’t you? I knew I didn’t like the look of you. Sneaking around in the woods like you was.”

“Mrs. Grantham, he was already drunk when he showed up at my place. He’s very upset about Kinitra.”

“Oh, I get you…” Chantal’s gaze softened a bit. “He’s so young. All of those college degrees of his yet he’s still a little boy when it comes to women.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing. She seemed to be making up her mind about something. “You be seeing that girlfriend of yours today?”

“Yes. We’re having dinner later.”

“Tell her from me that today was laundry day, okay?”

Mitch stared at her. “Laundry day?”

“Laundry day.”

“And she’ll know what that means?”

“Just shut up and tell her, will you?” Then she turned around and yelled, “Cee, get your bony ass out here right goddamned now!”

Clarence came running, looking freakishly tall and wiry in his tank top and gym shorts. He was drenched with sweat, his muscles popping. “Yo, whassup?”

“Rondell’s passed out drunk in this here gentleman’s pickup. Put him to bed, will you? And don’t say nothing to Tyrone.”

“Awright.” Clarence went out to Mitch’s truck, opened the passenger door and threw his little cousin over one shoulder with ease. “You were at my party last night with the trooper, weren’t you?” he asked Mitch.

“That’s right.”

“And you found Kinitra on the beach this morning.”

“Right again.”

“Hang out a sec. Want to talk to you.”

Clarence carried Rondell inside. Chantal followed him. Mitch waited there by his truck until Clarence returned, pulling the front door shut behind him.

“Tyrone and myself been doing some reps in the weight room,” he explained, mopping his sweaty brow with a gym towel. “Lifting settles him down some. Helps him deal with the monster inside. And the monster is definitely loose. I hear he almost tore up that whole clinic when he found out Kinitra’s pregnant.” Clarence glanced down the driveway toward the front gate. “We were watching ESPN in the gym just now. Saw that clown Plotka claiming he’s got Tyrone’s spooge all over some blouse. Big man was ready to sprint down the driveway and strangle the little bastard on live television. I told him, yo, that’s what he
wants
you to do. He’s
trying
to rile you.” Clarence wadded up the towel and tossed it at the front porch. “He freaks me out when he gets this way. He needs Jamella to calm him down. But she has to be at the hospital with Kinitra.” He eyed Mitch up and down curiously. “So what happened to little man?”

“He wanted to see where I found her. Showed up at my place drunk as a skunk.”

“Where’s his ride?”

“Parked at the foot of the causeway. It’ll be fine there until someone has a chance to fetch it.”

“I’ll go get it right now. I can use a run. It’s just under two miles from here if you cut through those woods at the end of Sour Cherry Lane.”

Mitch looked at him in surprise. “I thought only the old-timers knew about that footpath.”

“You thought wrong. I always familiarize myself with the surrounding terrain. Tyrone likes to take nature runs. Six, eight miles at a clip.”

“I can give you a lift if you’d rather. I’m heading right back there.”

Clarence’s face relaxed into an easy grin. “You talked me into it. Let me just get his keys.”

Mitch got in behind the wheel and waited for Clarence to join him, car keys in hand. The Studey’s cab wasn’t exactly spacious. Clarence had to fold his long self in carefully, limb by limb.

“You have enough legroom there?”

“Yeah, man. I’m good.”

“Think I need a new truck?”

“Why would I think that?”

“Just asking.”

Outside the front gate, Stewart Plotka and Andrea Halperin were still holding the media throng transfixed. No one paid any attention as Mitch rolled on out of there, working the Studey through its three-speed overdrive transmission.

Clarence said, “I wanted to thank you for that heads-up you gave the trooper about the hole in our fence. The fencing company’s going to put in a whole new section tomorrow morning.”

“What about until then?”

“I drilled some holes in a sheet of plywood and wired it into place over the hole. Should do the trick unless someone really wants in. And if they do, there’s no stopping them, am I right?”

“I’m afraid you are.”

“Chantal and myself paid a social call on the Joshua sisters and Mr. Lash. Brought them a mess of food.”

“That was nice of you.”

“Wasn’t my idea. Let me tell you, those are some strange old ladies.”

“Pretty standard for Dorset.”

“And that house of theirs with all of those antique clocks tick-tocking away.” Clarence shook his head in amazement. “I felt like I was walking right into that Tennessee Williams play. The one with the little glass figurines.”

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.”