Winston noticed Mitch standing there and waved to him. “Hey, Brubaker, is this a party or is this a party?”
Mitch gave him two thumbs up. “Winston lives with his late wife’s two sisters,” he told Tyrone. “They’re having a hard time of it. I make deliveries three times a week from the Food Pantry.”
Tyrone’s eyes widened. “Real?”
“Real.”
“I thought this was a rich town.”
“You thought wrong.”
“Man, you push right back, don’t you? You’re all right. Figured you would be. Otherwise our resident trooper wouldn’t be wasting her time on you.” Tyrone turned to his little brother and said, “Ask Moms to pay a call on them tomorrow, okay? Maybe take them a mess of her fried chicken and potato salad. Tell her to make a whole lot. And you are going over there with her,” he informed Clarence. “Those ladies need anything done-a light bulb changed, brush cleared, carpet vacuumed-you’re doing it for them, hear?”
“I don’t vacuum carpets,” Clarence said indignantly.
“Yeah, you do,” Tyrone assured him.
“Okay, whatever,” he conceded. “But we still got us a situation here. This old man sexually assaulted Asia. He should be arrested.”
“What do you think about that?” Tyrone asked Des.
“We can go that route. But if I charge Mr. Lash then I’ll have to charge Clarence, too.”
“With what?” Clarence demanded.
“You criminally assaulted him.”
“I was defending my girl!”
“You cold-cocked a helpless old man, Clarence,” Des pointed out. “And if you pursue this, you will get the attention of the media-especially given your criminal record.”
Clarence’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
“It’s my business to know.”
“Maybe you ought to let it slide, Cee,” Tyrone suggested.
“No maybe about it,” Rondell put in firmly. “We do not need more negative attention.”
Des said, “Actually, it’s not up to you gentlemen to decide. Asia is the alleged victim here.”
“That’s right, girl,” Asia said, nodding her head up and down. “And there ain’t no ‘alleged’ about it. He bit me.”
“Do you wish to file a criminal assault charge against him?”
Asia hesitated, peering over at Winston. “My grandmoms has Alzheimer’s. She don’t even know where she is half the time. I don’t want to break bad with some sick old man. That’s just wrong. Can we forget the whole thing?”
“Yes, we can. We’ll call it a minor disagreement. Clarence, if you and Mr. Lash will shake hands on it, I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m not shaking that pervert’s hand,” Clarence grumbled.
“Yeah, you are,” Tyrone assured him.
Reluctantly, Clarence went over to Winston. “Hey, I’m sorry, awright?”
Winston grinned up at him. “My, you’re a tall one, aren’t you?”
“Just shake my damned hand, will you, old man?”
The two of them shook hands.
Des asked the Jewett girls if Winston was okay to go home now.
“He’s fine,” Marge said.
“I’ll take it from here,” Mitch said, starting toward him.
“Anything else we can do for you, Trooper Mitry?” Tyrone asked.
“Yes, there is.” Des glanced at her watch. “While we were standing here having all of this fun, the clock just ran out. Pull the plug for me, will you? This party is history.”
CHAPTER 6
The old coot bolted on him just as they were about to climb into Mitch’s pickup. Took off across the lawn and went crashing into the woods that separated the Grantham place from the Joshua estate.
“Winston, where are you going?” Mitch cried out as he sprinted after him.
“Home!” hollered Winston, who could scoot along pretty fast for someone in his bedroom slippers. Especially considering that Clarence had just gone Tarantino on him. “Lila gets all weepy if I stay out too late. She was some kind of beauty in her day. But who wants an old broad when there’s so many young ones and so little time. Know what I mean?”
“Not really, but that’s okay.” Mitch caught up with him, grabbing him by the arm. “You can’t get home this way. They put up a chain-link fence, remember?”
“Of course I remember. How do you think I got here?” Winston yanked his arm free, feinted left and went right, speeding past Mitch. He had wicked playground moves. Possibly, a leash was in order. “Boy, that was some party,” he cackled gleefully from the wooded darkness. “Why, there were more bare-assed colored girls-”
“Women of color.”
“In the same place at the same time than I can shake my stick at.”
Mitch groped his way along in the moonlit darkness, avoiding the trees and boulders as best he could. “Are you feeling okay, Winston?”
“Never better,” replied Winston, who seemed to know exactly where he was heading. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you just got punched in the mouth.”
“Dear, sweet Asia. I must come back and see her in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But we bonded. I felt a connection.”
“Your teeth bonded with her ass. I’d hardly call that a connection.”
“Shows how much you know. Women cherish a man who isn’t afraid to show his feelings. My God, there is something so intoxicating about tender young flesh. Nothing else like it on God’s green earth. He knows that.”
“Who does, God?”
“ God? Who’s talking about God? I meant my good buddy. We’re a lot alike, you know. Have very similar tastes.”
Mitch let that one slide on by. He wasn’t sure if imaginary playmates were part of Winston’s illness or not. He only knew that the old guy was starting to drive him loco. “Winston, we’d better go back to my truck now.”
“What for?”
“Because we’re lost in the woods in the dark.”
“Are not.” Winston came to a halt, breathing heavily. “There’s the big boulder, see?”
Mitch could barely make out a huge boulder looming before them. The eight-foot chain-link fence was just beyond it. “So?…”
“So that’s where the hole is.” Winston felt around for a moment. Then, with a cry of delight, he got down on his hands and knees and scurried through the fence like a little boy. “Are you coming?”
Mitch knelt there and discovered that a three-foot-square section of the fence had been neatly cut away. “Did you make this hole?” he asked as he followed Winston through it.
“Not me,” Winston replied.
“How long has it been here?”
“Wouldn’t know. I just found it yesterday.”
Mitch pondered this. The street outside of Tyrone Grantham’s house was swarming with photographers-any one of whom could fetch major bucks for candid shots of him relaxing poolside with Jamella. Or, better yet, with some hot, topless babe who wasn’t Jamella. Would one of those creeps cut a hole in the fence and try to sneak
