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!”
She sat herself down, blinking at him in surprise.
“What in the hell did you think you were doing calling in the Major Crime Squad in the absence of a complainant?”
“I have a bad feeling about this one. Something very nasty has been going on in that house. Kinitra’s afraid to speak up. She needs me to look out for her. That’s what a resident trooper does.”
“I do not need a lecture from you on the job specifications of a resident trooper. It so happens I’m the man who has administered the entire program for the past eleven years. You have involved Major Crime Squad investigators despite the clear and obvious absence of a crime. You have squandered precious investigative man hours-”
“ Woman hours.”
“To follow up on nothing more than a-a cowboy hunch.”
“Cow girl hunch.”
“Desiree, you’re lucky I don’t pick up the phone this very minute and have a talk with Yolanda’s captain. I can
