Little Rondell was so upset he couldn’t sit still. Jumped to his feet and paced his way around the entire room, shaking his head, before he returned to the seating area and came to a halt in front of Calvin. “ You got her pregnant,” he said hoarsely. “You forced yourself on your own daughter.”
Calvin crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly. “Your mama’s lying to you, boy. Wasn’t me.”
“It was him, little man,” Chantal cried. “I swear it. And I’m so sorry I didn’t speak up, Jamella.”
“And yet you gave Mitch that message for me today,” Des pointed out. “Why, Chantal?”
“Because that poor girl tried to take her own life, that’s why. Hers and her baby’s. There is no greater sin than that.”
Tears were spilling out of Jamella’s eyes and streaming down her chiseled cheekbones. “If what you say is true…”
“Oh, it’s true,” Chantal swore.
“Why didn’t she come to me? I’m her big sister. I’d do anything for her. I-I don’t understand.”
“I think I do,” said Des, who’d seen this sort of thing happen before. Too damned many times. “She didn’t come to you because she’s been blaming herself for what’s been going on. Plus she’s humiliated, ashamed and really, really frightened.” Des looked over at Calvin. “But not nearly as frightened as you. You panicked when Kinitra was admitted to the hospital, didn’t you? Especially after you found out she didn’t want you to visit her.”
Calvin reached for his beer can and took a swig. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, sounding a bit less sure of himself now.
“Sure you do, Calvin,” Des went on. “You had to know that the doctors would discover she was pregnant. You also had to know that once she was tucked away safe and snug, talking to the law about her situation, she’d eventually summon up enough courage to bring the hammer down on you. So when Tyrone went out for that ice cream, you cooked up a scheme on the fly. He said he’d be gone for a while, felt like clearing his head. The timing couldn’t have been more ideal. The second he walked out the door you called Andrea Halperin on her cell and told her to meet you at White Sand Beach. Then you snatched Tyrone’s Glock from his nightstand, hightailed it there on foot and shot her and Stewart Plotka, figuring if you framed Tyrone for their murders that Kinitra’s rape would land on him, too.”
“That makes perfect sense, Master Sergeant,” Mitch said slowly. “Except I have a mighty huge icebox question for you.”
“What’s an icebox question, Loo?” Toni asked.
“It’s some weird Hitchcock old movie thing,” Yolie replied. “Trust me, don’t go there.”
Des stared at him. When Mitch had an icebox question, he was not kidding around. “Okay, lay it on me…”
“How did Calvin know Andrea Halperin’s cell number?”
“I ain’t saying nothing,” Calvin grumbled in response.
“Yes, you are,” said Rondell, who in the blink of an eye no longer stood facing Calvin. He stood behind him holding a Glock 19 to Calvin’s head-a Glock 19 that he’d whipped out of the rear waistband of his slacks. He’d had it hidden under that damned Hawaiian shirt. And made his play so fast that not one of them had a chance to react. Not Des. Not Yolie. Not the Deacon. Not Toni.
And for damned sure not Calvin, who sat there frozen and wide-eyed.
“Don’t anybody move!” Rondell warned them. “Keep your weapons holstered or I swear I will blow his brains all over this beautiful white sofa!”
“Whatever you say, Rondell.” Yolie’s voice was calm and quiet. “Just take it easy.”
“I’m taking it easy!”
“Then why don’t you put that gun down?” Des suggested. “Let’s not make this situation any worse.”
“She’s right, little brother,” Tyrone said. “Put that thing away. This ain’t your style.”
“My style?” Rondell shoved the Glock’s nose harder against Calvin’s head, the gun trembling in his hand. “My style is to treat a fine young lady like Miss Kinitra Jameson with respect. And just look where that got me, will you?”
“Is that your brother’s Glock?” Des asked him. She wanted to keep him talking. Maybe cool his jets a little.
“No, it’s my Glock,” he answered angrily. “I keep it in my desk at all times in case some nut like Stewart Plotka tries to go after him. You people made sure you asked Clarence if he kept a weapon in the house. But not one of you thought to ask me -because you think I’m a-a helpless little wonk. A weakling. You all think that.”
“That’s not true,” Jamella said, as he continued to hold that Glock to her father’s head. “I think you’ve got a whole lot to offer. You’re smart. You’re compassionate. I’ve always said that.”
Tyrone nodded his head. “That’s right, she has. Let the police handle this, little brother. Stop and think, will you? What in the hell are you doing?”
“I’m taking care of myself.” Beads of sweat had formed on Rondell’s forehead. He was so overheated his glasses were practically fogging up. “That’s what you always told me a man does, right? Well, I’ve got some news for you. All of you. I’m a man. And I can take care of myself just fine.”
“Sure you can, son,” the Deacon said. “No one in this room doubts that for one second. But what’s important right now is for you to put that gun down and let the law take over.”
Rondell shook his head. “No, sir. I’m sorry, but this is a family matter. And I’m in charge now. So y-you answer the question, Calvin. Answer it right goddamned now.”
Calvin gulped. “ Which question?”
“Mitch’s ice chest question.”
“Actually, it’s an ice box question. The term dates back to when folks still owned…” Mitch broke off when he noticed Des’s warning glare. “But you can say it either way.”
“How did you get Andrea Halperin’s cell number?” she asked Calvin.
“She… gave me her business card at the store.” Calvin’s eyes shifted uneasily as Rondell pressed the Glock to his head. “In case I ever wanted to sell her some inside info to help her case.”
“And did you?”
“Naw, never.”
“Keep talking,” Rondell commanded him.
“About what?”
“What you did tonight, you sick bastard!”
“Okay, okay. I phoned that Miss Halperin, like the trooper said. Told her I might have some news to sell her. We agreed to meet in that parking lot at seven. I-I took Tyrone’s gun from his nightstand and hoofed it there, like the fellow said. Took that shortcut through the woods at the end of Sour Cherry.”
“How did you know about that path?” Mitch asked him.
“Cee mentioned it to me.”
“It’s true, I did,” Clarence said.
Rondell jabbed the Glock at him even harder. “Who made that hole in our fence?”
“It was me,” Calvin admitted. “I can appreciate Tyrone wanting his privacy and all. But I lived inside the wire for too many years. Don’t like to be fenced in. I need to roam-without some state trooper at the front gate knowing my business. So I took some wire cutters to the thing first night they put it in. Moseyed around the neighborhood and found me this fine white girl next door who likes to paint buck naked on the sun porch after dark.”
“Her name is Callie. Have you ever laid a hand on her?” Mitch demanded.
“No, sir. I looked, that’s all.”
“You met them at the White Sand Beach parking lot,” Yolie said. “Then what happened?”
Calvin let out a sigh. “I-I capped them, okay? Then I came straight home.”
“Where’s the weapon?” Yolie asked.
“Tossed it in the woods.”
“With your prints on it?”
“Naw, I wiped it clean. How stupid do you think I am?”
“Don’t know yet,” she replied. “Still getting there.”
Rondell took a ragged breath, the Glock shaking in his hand. “Was Trooper Mitry right? Did you kill those people to make it look like Tyrone was a cold-blooded murderer? A-And everyone would figure he raped
