sailing with the tide tomorrow and never coming back.”
“Just between us, she’s better off without him,” Mitch confided.
Luanne shot a knowing look at him. “It’s Bonita, of course. It was only a matter of time before that steamy little tramp set her sights on him.”
“Are you sure you won’t join us, Mitch?” Lila asked.
“Positive. I just wanted to ask Winston a quick question.”
“Why sure, Brubaker. Fire away.”
“Have you seen your buddy lately?”
The old fellow looked at Mitch blankly. “My buddy?”
“Last night, when we were burrowing through that hole in the fence, you told me you had a buddy who shares your appreciation for tender young flesh.” Mitch glanced over at the sisters. “Please pardon my earthiness.”
“Think nothing of it, Mitch. We’ve heard it all,” Lila said, reaching for a drumstick. “That black woman sure can make fried chicken, can’t she, dear?”
“She sure can,” Luanne agreed. “They’re very clever with their hands, you know. And such a musical people.”
“Winston, you told me your buddy understands you.”
The old man toyed with his handlebar moustache, grinning at Mitch devilishly. “You bet. My buddy and I understand each other.”
Luanne looked at him pityingly. “Which ‘buddy’ would this be, Winnie?”
“He may very well be talking about an imaginary friend,” Lila whispered to Mitch.
“That’s exactly what I thought last night. But then I got to thinking about it some more and… Winston, have you seen him this evening?”
“Sure thing, Brubaker.”
“When was this?”
“Just before it started to rain.”
“Where?”
“Out in our backyard.”
Luanne peered at him suspiciously. “What were you doing in our yard?”
“Attending to some personal business.”
“Winnie, were you peeing on those trees again?”
“What if I was?” he replied defiantly. “A man needs to mark his territory. It’s an animal instinct. Tell her, Brubaker. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Winston, what was your friend doing?” Mitch asked him.
“Passing through.”
“Is that what he usually does? Pass through?”
“Sometimes he stops by late at night to watch Callie fling paint on the sun porch in her birthday suit. He told me he can see her plain as day from out there.”
“But tonight you say he was passing through.”
“That’s right.”
“Where was he heading?”
Winston shrugged. “Search me.”
“Well, where does he usually come from?”
“That-a-way.” Winston waved in the direction of the Grantham estate.
“Do you mean the house right next door or Justy Bond’s place?”
“That-a-way,” the old man repeated with maddening vagueness.
“Would you mind showing me?”
“Be happy to, Brubaker. Any time.”
“How about right now?”
“Why, Mitch, we’re in the middle of dinner,” Luanne said.
“ And it’s teeming bricks out there,” Lila added.
“I’m sorry, ladies, but this is really important.”
“Very well. But wait a second…” Luanne grabbed her napkin, leaned over and wiped the fried chicken grease from Winston’s moustache and mouth.
Winston beamed at her. “When you bend over that way I can almost see your boobies.”
“You’re as bad as a schoolboy, you old fool.”
Winston got up out of his chair and drew himself up to his full height, his shoulders thrown back. “Shall I lead on, Brubaker?”
“Please do.”
Lila fetched the old fellow’s yellow rain slicker from the mudroom and helped him on with it, zipping it up to his throat.
“I’ll be back soon, girls,” he announced in a booming voice. Then he went charging out the kitchen door into the pouring rain, striding gallantly across the soggy lawn toward the trees where the fence stood.
Mitch had to run to catch up with him.
CHAPTER 15
“Good to see you again, Yolie,” Mitch exclaimed as he and Winston Lash stood there dripping all over Tyrone’s polished hardwood floor.
“Back at you, Mitch,” Yolie responded grimly.
Toni the Tiger marched right up to him and said, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Berger. I’m Toni Tedone.”
Mitch smiled and said, “Of course you are.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”
“My, you certainly have a pair of big ones,” Winston observed, his eyes zeroing right on her ta-tas.
“ What did you just-?”
“Don’t mind Winston,” Mitch said as Des studied him, wondering what in the hell he and the old man were doing here. He glanced around at the very tense group of people who were gathered there, his gaze settling on little Rondell. “Hey, man, how are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you,” Rondell answered quietly.
“I love that shirt you have on.”
Rondell looked down at his Hawaiian shirt doubtfully. “Do you really mean that?”
“I do. It’s totally you.”
“Good evening, Chantal,” Winston said. “The girls and I were just enjoying some of your delicious fried chicken.”
“Glad you liked it,” Chantal murmured, seated there next to Monique.
Des said, “We’re, um, into something kind of heavy right now, Mitch. What’s up?”
“Maybe something, maybe nothing. And if it’s nothing I apologize in advance for barging in like this. You know how I hate to interrupt an official inquiry.”
Yolie nodded her head. “Oh, I do. You’ve only done it, what, six times?”
“Actually, I think this might make eight,” Des said.
“Say what you came to say,” the Deacon interjected with quiet authority.
“Thanks, I will,” Mitch said, scratching his curly head of hair furiously. It was a thing he did sometimes when he was trying to collect his thoughts. Reminded Des of an inquisitive organ grinder’s monkey. “Last night, when I was leading Winston home through the woods after that unfortunate incident at the party-”
“I’m all done apologizing for that,” Clarence blustered at him.
Mitch held up his hands as a gesture of surrender. “We’re good. This isn’t about that. As we approached the
