Until the End of Time (40 page)

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Authors: Melanie Schuster

BOOK: Until the End of Time
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“
This just in: In a bizarre turn of events, prominent media personality Donovan Bailey was found near death in his Southfield apartment. He has apparently been badly beaten and shot. He was taken to Beaumont Hospital where he is currently undergoing emergency surgery. There are no further details at this point.” The only sound in the room was Renee’s now-empty mug hitting the oak floor.
***
The next hours were some of the most confusing that Renee had ever had the misfortune to recall. What with the telephone ringing and various family members checking in, it was like a huge circus had arrived from the ninth circle of hell with Satan as the ringmaster. All Renee knew for sure was that she had nothing to do with Donovan Bailey’s plight, nor did Andrew. After that, all bets were off. They continued to monitor the televised reporting with a morbid fascination. A competent, dispassionate female reporter was giving yet another update on what was being referred to as the ‘bizarre shooting of the highly respected newsman’.
“
The police can only speculate about the events leading up to the tragic shooting of Donovan Bailey. Mr. Bailey, recently returned from Europe, was residing in a furnished apartment in this building while the contract negotiations for his new position were finished,” she said as she gracefully indicated the high-rise building behind her.
“
As you will recall, the deal with Cochran Communications of Detroit and The Deveraux Group, based in Atlanta, was abruptly broken off recently when it was announced that Mr. Bailey was to be replaced. Neither organization has had any comment to make about his dismissal, which has led to rampant speculation as to the circumstances behind the parting of the ways.
“
It appears that Mr. Bailey was surprised in his apartment by an assailant or assailants unknown and was severely beaten. The extent of the injuries is unknown at this time, but he was shot at close range by a small caliber handgun.”
The woman stopped speaking abruptly and placed a hand at the headset that was feeding her information from the studio. “Mr. Bailey has just been taken to the recovery room after emergency surgery that appears to have been successful. He will be placed in Intensive Care in critical condition, and at this point, that is all we know. Further details will be available, as they are known. I’m Rhonda Sampson with Channel 5 News.”
The newsroom reappeared on the screen as Andrew clicked the remote to silence the endless bulletins and updates. He looked over at Renee, whose fingers were flying in her usual distress pattern.
One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four
…Andrew frowned and grasped the hand closest to him to reassure her.
“
Hey. It’s okay, Renee. I know you’re shocked, and this is…ironic to say the least, but it doesn’t involve us. This has nothing to do with us, honey. Don’t look so scared,” he said soothingly. Renee’s face was blank with distress.
“
Andy, it’s just that I wished, hell, I even
prayed
so many times for something bad to happen to him. And now, something terrible
has
happened. And I know that I didn’t do it, and you didn’t do it, but who’s to say how it happened? That small caliber handgun they were talking about? That pretty much describes the gun that Mama had stashed in the linen closet,” she fretted. Andrew slid closer to her in the corner of the sofa.
“
Renee! Don’t even go there! Your mother could no more shoot a man than she could flap her arms and fly to the moon! You’re being crazy, baby, and it’s understandable, but don’t go off the deep end on me, now.”
Renee buried her head in the crook of his neck and allowed him to stroke away some of her fear. Then she gave a soft, laughing snort. “You don’t know for a fact that my mother
can’t
fly. You’ve never seen her in action. And believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to see Mrs. Queen on a tear. But let’s go over there and make sure that they’re okay. I’m sure they have heard the news by now and I don’t want Daddy’s pressure going up.”
When the news first broke, Renee’s parents were still out shopping, so going back to the Indian Village house seemed the logical thing to do. She wasn’t going to try and interrogate her mother over the phone so she went home and played with Patti and Chaka while she had them all to herself. The Kemps came back to the house and seemed to be in very high spirits. But even when she could see her parents with her own eyes, Renee wasn’t completely relieved. Pearlie Mae seemed a bit nerved up and giddy, and her father wasn’t much better. The reason for their nervy state was soon out in the open. Pearlie Mae announced that they had heard the news bulletins while in the car.
“
I’m a Christian woman and I wish I didn’t feel like this, but I’m glad it happened to the rotten son-of-a…
gun
. You know, God doesn’t love ugly and what you do in the dark will eventually come to the light,” she said in ringing tones of self-righteousness.
Renee had nothing to add to that statement, nothing whatsoever. She went into the kitchen where her father was making a pot of tea; his usual cure for what ailed one. She wanted to be appalled at her mother’s callousness, but she understood exactly where her mother was coming from. Donovan Bailey was a bastard first class and she knew that better than anyone. But somehow, in the face of all Renee had gone through to get rid of the specter of his presence in her life, it seemed wrong to do a happy dance over his shooting.
What would Miss Manners say about this situation?
How does the well-brought-up rape survivor react upon hearing that her rapist has been bludgeoned and shot?
Renee’s conflicted feelings erupted in a strained laugh that was more like a bark; which made Mr. Kemp start patting her on the back and offering her water. Renee shook her head in refusal and studied her father’s concerned face carefully “I’m fine, Daddy, really I am. I’m more concerned with you right now. This has been a lot to take in for you. How are
you
doing?” she asked solicitously.
John embraced his daughter tightly and assured her that he was fine. “My pressure is right where it should be, if that’s what’s worrying you. And everything else is where it should be, too,” he said obliquely, although Renee got his message.
He meant that he understood the reluctance of his daughters to be close to him over the last years, that he accepted it and bore no ill will. Renee could feel the tears that never seemed to be far away these days making a comeback, and she tried to will them away. Her father sensed her distress and sat her down at the work island for a cup of his fragrant tea.
“
Look here, Renee. As much as I want to be with you right now, I think I need to take your mother back to Cleveland until things calm down around here.”
As if to underscore his words, the phone rang for the fourth time since Renee had entered the house. This time, though it was someone she wanted to speak with, Ceylon.
“
Oh, Renee. Dear heart, how are you holding up? I saw the news this morning and I know you must be going through hell. On the one hand, no one deserved it more, but on the other hand, it’s a terrible thing to have happened to anyone, even that…creature,” Ceylon sighed. Renee relaxed for the first time that day.
“
Ceylon, you hit the nail right on the head. I’m all at sixes and sevens here. I wanted something horrible to happen to him for so long and now that it has, I feel guilty as hell,” she admitted.
“
See? I knew it! Renee, honey, you have no reason to feel guilty, none whatsoever! Get Yolanda on the phone and she will tell you the same thing! He was a bad person and something bad happened to him, but it wasn’t your doing. You weren’t responsible for what happened to Donovan Bailey, not at all!” Ceylon exclaimed indignantly.
“
But Ceylon, suppose…just suppose that I
was
responsible?” Renee whispered.
***
Even her conversation with Ceylon could not rid Renee of a sense of evil about to descend. With the fascination of a rubbernecking bystander at a five-car collision, she kept taking surreptitious glances at the television to get more information about the Donovan Bailey situation. She and Andrew had bid farewell to her parents despite Pearlie Mae’s vociferous objections. It had taken much persuasion to cleave her from her daughter’s side, persuasion that had come in the form of repeated assurances from Renee and Andrew and a final “Get in the car and let Andrew do his job, woman” from John Kemp. Finally, they were on their way and peace of a sort was restored.
That is, if repeated phone calls from every male Cochran and Deveraux could be ignored, along with messages from Ceylon, Yolanda,
all
of her sisters and everyone who had reason to be close to Renee with the exception of Bennie who was still in the dark about the entire situation. The convergence of Andrew’s brothers did little to calm Renee’s fear, either. They all showed up at Renee’s house in the early evening with an air of conspiracy and confidence that worked Renee’s very last nerve. When she noticed a large bandage on Adam’s hand, a hand that was red and swollen, she felt her stomach lurch
“
Adam, honey, what happened to your hand?” she asked in what she fervently hoped was a normal tone of voice. His reply didn’t convey any degree of truth that Renee could discern. “This?” he replied breezily. “Accident at work, that’s all.” And that was all he would say on the subject.
Renee looked at the handsome, intelligent men sitting around her breakfast room swilling icy beer straight from the brown bottles and was torn between rage and abject fear. She was suddenly gripped with a cold, clammy sensation that was not unlike a sudden onset of flu as she toyed with the idea that someone in that very room could have been driven to do something incredibly wrong, dangerous and felonious on her behalf. She quickly excused herself and fled upstairs to quell the wrenching nausea that accompanied the fear.
I am losing what is left of my mind. This can’t be happening, Lord. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four…
Upstairs in her bedroom, Renee could barely hear the murmur of voices that was punctuated by laughter every so often. After tossing the meager contents of her stomach into the toilet, she had brushed her teeth three times and tried to gauge how bad her headache was. The implacable black face of the television in her sitting room drew her like a magnet and she succumbed to its lure. She stumbled over to the armoire that housed the monster and flicked it on. Sinking onto her soft gray sofa, she clutched a rose velvet pillow and waited. Sure enough, the screen was filled with the weeping face of the sweet-faced woman unfortunate enough to be married to Donovan Bailey.
.“I-I just can’t understand this,” she wept softly. “Donovan is the gentlest, most loving man in the world. For someone to harm him, well, I…I,” her words trailed off as her tears trickled down her small pinched face.
Miriam Roberson Bailey was the quintessential corporate wife. Pretty, petite, smart and accomplished, she had set her career aside to be the perfect wife and mother of Donovan’s three children, all of whom were pressed close to her now like frightened little ducks. The news crew had superbly staged it to be just what it appeared, a terrified, grieving wife trying to be brave for her frightened, innocent children. The sight of this woebegone little family in the hospital waiting room only compounded Renee’s massive guilt. She was about to turn off the television when the scene switched abruptly to the newsroom.
“
This just in: While Donovan Bailey fights for his life in Intensive Care, police report a new development in the case. A woman was seen leaving Bailey’s Southfield apartment just moments before building security was alerted to sounds of gunshots. An eyewitness has come forward and an arrest may be made sooner than anyone previously thought.” The African-American anchor managed to look concerned, informed and satisfied as he delivered this obvious bombshell. “Police at this moment are very close to identifying the woman from the description given by an eyewitness whose presence was not reported previously for obvious reasons. Security on this case has been paramount, due to the celebrity of the victim and the brutality of the attack. We at Channel 8 are pleased to be able to bring you the most accurate and most current updates on this serious situation. More details to follow on the 11:00 news,” he smirked, fairly sizzling with grandeur.
This time, Renee did turn off the television, moving slowly like someone in a trance. She could barely believe what she had just heard. A woman was seen leaving Bailey’s apartment around the time of the shooting. And that was when she had been with Andrew and her mother…had not. For the second time that evening, Renee raced to the bathroom consumed with acute nausea brought on by acute fear. She hated the vomiting, she hated the terror, but most of all at that very moment, she hated herself.
What have I done, Lord? And how can I be forgiven?

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Four
Renee sat quietly in the rocking chair, listening to a Norah Jones CD that was playing softly and deliberately trying to think of nothing. She’d been trying to keep her mind blank for the several hours in which she’d sought refuge at Yolanda’s. After a tense, sleepless night in which she didn’t even confide her fears in Andrew, she had gone to Yolanda’s brownstone like a frightened child running home to its mother. Yolanda, bless her heart, hadn’t even blinked. She, too, had been keeping track of the latest developments in the Donovan Bailey situation and had been more or less expecting Renee, both as a friend and a patient. She made her strong cups of tea, plied her with toast and honey and let her ramble for as long as she needed. Renee was convinced, at this point, that Donovan Bailey was at death’s door because of her. Finally, Yolanda spoke.

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